


In Arms Reach

by sweetindulgence (sweetdefault)



Series: Yautja Tales [5]
Category: Predator Original Series (1987-1990)
Genre: Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Vaginal Penetration, Exhibitionism, F/M, Happy Ending, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Painful Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Size Kink, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, everyone is horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26069482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdefault/pseuds/sweetindulgence
Summary: His huntress is always willing to lend a hand and help him get ready for special occasions. Watching Yautja rut qualifies as a 'special occasion', right?
Relationships: Predator/Human, Yautja (Predator)/Human, Yautja (Predator)/Original Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s), Yautja (Predator)/Original Male Character(s), Yautja/Human, Yautja/Yautja (Predator)
Series: Yautja Tales [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773715
Comments: 32
Kudos: 40





	1. prologue

It has been many years since the scientist asked his otherworldly companion to take him from the blue planet and show him the stars. Decades, even, though exact numbers are lost on the man given his companion’s abstract method of counting time in units of _cycles_.

He has not changed much from when he took the first step into the ship _Eros_ and left his home world. Lean, tall, and with a head of wiggly, curly brown locks, Alexander Cortez revels in learning all he can of the otherworldly _Yautja_.

A long time ago, bio-luminescent green blood sated his lips and he discovered just how grandiose and life-changing the space-faring species can be. For all the bodies left in the wake of Moonless Night—written as _M-di Luar-ke-guan_ , though his vocal cords are incapable of pronouncing the rough clicks and raspy howls necessary to speak it in Moonless Night’s tongue—none haunt him in the present. He thinks nothing of the lives lost, only how his life was _given_ when the otherworldly huntress slit her wrist and let the green vitae drizzle into his mouth.

 _Delicious._ A scrumptious and fulfilling decadence unlike anything he had ever experienced until then—And it had come with the bonus of healing the otherwise lethal injuries he sustained during the unfortunate raid on his private laboratory.

As he found out later: the acceptance of Moonless Night’s blood also extended his life. Her succulent blood imbued his cells, stretching his lifespan, keeping wrinkles from his face and his hair from growing out or greying. His sharp features remain firm as ever, as does the gleam of knowing mischief and sultry anticipation in his blue eyes. If it were not _the_ time of the cycle for Moonless Night to enter heat then his candor would be utmost professional.

But it is time for her heat. She has already entered it, roughly two day cycles past the present. He keeps tabs on the exact day, having done so and establishing a record of such things over the past eighteen… _years?_ Cycles.

Depending on his luck, he hopes to entertain a surplus of needy behavior exhibited by the Yautja huntress. She has never been shy in her sexuality, save for reminding him the two cannot mate as result of her honor. The closest thing to it is observing her mate others, and the he scientist knows Moonless Night only offers the voyeuristic pleasure as long as she is not pregnant. It is the purpose of the heat: to find worthy sirers and become with child, or _pups_ , as Alexander recalls the huntress explaining once through translation software built into the latter’s mask.

 _It takes anywhere from three days to two weeks for sperm to fertilize eggs within a bearer’s womb._ Alexander snorts as he stands at the console table and dashboard. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat. _Look at me. I’ve been here long enough I use her species’ terminology without question._

“Alexander.” It brings him out of his stupor, the man immediately at attention and facing the huntress sitting in the pilot seat. The huntress’ mask produces a blue light from the side as the translation software voices in monotone, “—Tonight our ship entertains guests. Two Elites, of the clan who is ruthless. You are welcome to observe from the viewing chamber, but you are not to interrupt.”

“Same as always, then. Figures,” the scientist whistles softly and shakes his head. “Moon, you must know I enjoy taking notes on every configuration of limbs, genitalia, and muscle possible. But that is as an _observer._ How am I to expand my notes if I am not a participant in these studies?”

He cocks an eyebrow at her, grinning when the dark blue Yautja is quiet. Moonless Night pauses, then the light on the side of her bio-mask flashes blue and the translator intones, “I will not produce abominations. Hybrids. Our species is not meant to procreate with one another—”

“I daresay, if two species are capable of cross-breeding, is it not possible our species’ may be closer in ancestry than we think? Hybridization is not easily accomplished!” Alexander pushes his glasses up his nose.

The stars are beautiful flowing past the ship. The _Eros_ is like a dark fish against a sea of stars.

“I will not produce a hybrid. But,” the translation software pauses. Moonless Night angles her mask at him. “I will consider the options available. If you are serious in your desire for firsthand experience, you will take the necessary precautions in preparing yourself for a session.”

Alexander resists the urge to bow. “Of course, of course—I know exactly what you mean. Lovely Moon, I will see you and our guests later. If you excuse me, allow me to attend to the precautionary measures you spoke of.”

* * *

He knows precisely what his lovely huntress means by _preparations._ No sooner than he is back in his small—but remarkably tidy—bedchamber, does the man strip himself of his clothing, go to the washroom, and begin to clean and scrub his skin. While most spacecraft employ strange means of bathing, Moonless Night has granted him a small measure of comfort in a bidet with an extendable hose capable of ensuring every inch of his body is refreshed.

 _Ah, to think. Soon it won’t be water on my skin._ The man smiles deeply and exhales. He anticipates any _hypothetical_ firsthand experience to be messy regardless of what he does, but he goes through the rigorous process of douching and clearing himself of filth. More than once the cold water presses up against a spot in his body, making him see stars as blood flows to his groin. He doesn’t dare touch anything, not even a tease for himself, as he wants the anticipation to build for possible interspecies copulation.

“Ah…” By the time he dries himself off and slips a bathrobe on over his nude body, Alexander is ready for the next step. He walks to his bed and opens a drawer. He picks through different toys and settles on a lovely plug, a bit big than what he’s used to but pleasurable all the same, with a flared base and gorgeous ribbing down the side in a material Alexander loves. The lube comes next, quickly squeezed into one hand and massaged over his toy. He cups the plug as if it were one of the gorgeous phalluses he’s seen his beautiful huntress take before. His hands stroke it up and down the side. He kisses the tip before he sits on his bed with his knees drawn up.

His bathrobe flares open, revealing the recent shaven pelvis and his humble erection. Alexander closes his eyes and moans as he drops the plug lower, tracing the lubricated edge down his perineum and stopping at his sphincter. He gently prods it against his hole, only to grimace when his hand slips and he jabs it into a thigh. The man huffs and attempts again, but between his less than flexible body and the size of the plug, it is difficult for him to see the angle.

A devious thought crosses his mind. He sets the plug down and leans over to tap a flashing red number pad in the wall. A communication line activates, and a moment later he hears his huntress’ click of acknowledgement. Alexander sighs loudly, “Oh, Moon, it’s _dreadful,_ here I am, sitting nude as a shrewd on my bed, and I need someone to help my feeble human self prepare for tonight’s activities—”

“You are more than capable of your own preparations, Alexander.” The mask’s translator comes through an unseen speaker.

The scientist scoffs. “I am but a weak, inferior _ooman_ , Moon! I need a strong, capable huntress to hold me in place and have her way with me! Or a hunter, but, tsk, how unfortunate none are onboard. Can you help me, Moon? _Please?_ ”

“If that will aid your research, Alexander. This is not for the sake of pleasure—Do not misinterpret my motivations or actions.”

“Of course not.” Alexander grins wickedly when the communications line cuts off.

His beautiful huntress is a careful one, always willing to help but only after reiterating _scientific discoveries_ as her motives. The one time he caught her note of eagerness to aid him, he had hinted at her possessing something more for his incredulously handsome self, _feelings_ , and to his surprise, the huntress had become the Yautja equivalent of flustered—angrily blushing—before shutting up and leaving. She never denied the comments, nor has she to date.

 _Bound to her honor._ Alexander licks his lips. _What a strong, capable huntress. She could snap my neck with her thighs alone…_

He sits upright on his bed when the chamber door slides open. Moon’s long, braided locs sway as she strides forward, only to pause. Her mask flashes blue on the side. “Did you want to cover yourself?”

“Me? No, no. We’ve had that talk of privacy once, psh,” Alexander rolls his eyes, lips curved up into a smile. “You lectured me on the differences of nudity between Yautja and humans. Quite wonderfully, may I add. But enough of me blabbing away—I require your help, Moon! I need you to take this,” Alexander waves the plug in the air. “And penetrate me with it! Fill me up! Push as hard as you need to, I don’t mind.”

“An object of this size may bring you discomfort or pain upon entering the rectum.” Moon’s translation software voices even as she walks to the bed and sits next to him on it.

Just having her there, close, fills his body with warmth and bliss. Alexander sighs in delight when the huntress’ hand brushes his own taking the plug from him.

“Please, fill me,” Alexander breathes, voice low and hoarse. “As deep as you can get—” His back arches when the huntress heeds his words and begins pushing it inside.

The stretch is hideously painful, much worse than he imagined, but the scientist reminds himself it is temporary, that it is all for science, and that it is his gorgeous huntress provoking such naughty thoughts. Alexander shivers and clenches around the plug as Moon inserts it up to the flared base. Her mask angles to look down at him. He looks up at her, mouth ajar, cheeks flushed, and offers her a cheeky grin.

“You are beautiful from this angle, Moon.” Alexander rumbles with satisfaction. He gasps and begins to pant when the huntress takes hold of the plug and begins pulling it out. _“Oh—Oh,_ by your Gods—By mine—Yes, yes, it must—It must be in wrong—We will try again—”

He bleats loudly when the plug is rocked back inside his body. It takes a moment for the lights in his eyes to cease and for his vision to return to normal. As Moon twists the plug and begins retracting her hand, the plug follows, and the stretching begins anew. Alexander grabs hold of his huntress’ wrist and trembles beneath her.

“Oh—Moon—” He holds unto her for dear life. His heart races wildly in his chest. “Moon, Moon, Moon—Sweet, kind, beautiful _Moon—_ ”

“These are preparations, Alexander.” The Yautja’s clicks are flustered, though the translation software hides it well in its monotonous voice.

But Alexander doesn't miss it. He grins at her slip-up, at the crack in her composure, and rocks his hips against the plug, against her hand, “Yes—Yes, preparations—Ah, _oh god,_ god, yes, right there—Prepare me! Prepare me, Moon!”

A sharp thrust of the plug into him causes Alexander to double over in his bed. His bathrobe sticks to sweaty skin as he writhes in ecstasy. The feeling is so _full_ , so magnificent, all he can think of is how badly he wants to have her with him, like this, all the time. Alexander’s hands climb up the Yautja’s chest and he sits up enough to wrap his arms around her neck, clinging to her and voicing each new whimper and moan as she rocks the plug into his rear. Pre dribbles down the side of his shaft and his cock twitches painfully, but no relief comes for it. He will not touch it, and he knows Moon will not touch him in that way, not directly.

It is their dance of lust, of wanton abandon, of the dreams he holds where her honor does not prohibit her from acting on the requisite feelings.

There comes a point where his body bucks wildly into the Yautja’s grasp, the man practically in his huntress’ lap now, where Alexander bounces on the plug helplessly while Moon thrusts it harder. The tension builds to a brink, to a precipice of need and euphoria, and then—Alexander cannot hold it back, all his desire and lust for the otherworldly goddess aside him. He climaxes with a roar and a shout and sobbing cries for Moon to touch him, for him to touch her, for the two ensnare in the other like two snakes mid-coitus. He humps her side weakly while his semen dribbles out.

Moon says nothing through his orgasm, but the hand holding the plug releases it and shifts to his back. The huntress grabs him roughly—yet gentler than she could be—and holds him close, letting the exhausted scientist nuzzle her chest armor and press his lips to her mesh. He feels one hand rub his back.

“Ah…” Alexander breathes softly. “I feel quite prepared now… I will dream of this for eons, my sweet Moon. I will dream of you, even when you are in the arms of another…”

She doesn’t hold him forever, merely clicks in acknowledgement and sets him back on his bed. She uses his bedsheet to wipe herself clean, though Alexander knows a washroom trip is in order. He grins to himself on the bed as he thinks about how his beautiful huntress will pleasure herself shortly to the sounds of his pleasure and submission. Even if she mates with Yautja, he knows where her four hearts lay, and each is in arms reach of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a shabby excuse to write smut. There might be more in the future since Alexander wants the Y(autja), but for now I'm leaving it as is.  
> Edit 8/30/2020: This is now a multi-chapter story.  
> Note: Alexander's name is in no way related to a prominent US politician.


	2. dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is now a multi-chapter story where I write smut in a hopefully nice way. Not a lot of plot, but some fluff and a lot of smut.
> 
> Everyone in this fic is bisexual because why not. (confetti)

It begins with the skulls: a pile of them, brought in heaping stacks. The two Yautja serving Moon tonight offload the collection of trophies and gifts into the cargo hold of his huntress’ ship. Their smaller ship sits snug in the docking bay nearby, adjacent where the two ships are parked at a neutral-territory space station.

Alexander knows these Yautja. The two are a wonderful duo: a pair of sirers who are as devoted to each other as Alexander is to his darling huntress. He cannot help but smile when he watches the two men give each other passing touches of affection, purring softly or directing a husky growl at the other when the two have a break. In the past, Alexander recalls moments where the men sandwiched Moon between their bodies. It has always been a beautiful sight, with Alexander reveling in how the Yautja satiates multiple sirers at one time. The duo are keen to fill Moon with potential pups, as the two are unable to have such with each other.

In this way, the union of the three Yautja bodies serves multiple purposes. To relieve Moon of the ache of her heat, to seed her in the ways Alexander dreams of, and to share in euphoric pleasures when the three Yautja move in tandem through, around, and in the other. The scientist is grateful for the honor of witnessing the union.

But—Tonight, he hopes to go one step beyond the usual pleasantries and join one of them in a meeting of flesh, in being held beneath muscular bodies and fucked until he passes out. Alexander feels himself clench around the plug in his ass as he stands, dressed in his lab coat over a pair of white slacks and button-up shirt. He feels incredibly fancy, and he hopes it is up to the standards of the two Yautja, that he can impress the men even with his lesser capabilities as a _pyode amedha._ Though Alexander cannot say the name himself—He is still capable of thinking through it, the clicks and raspy growls in his head as real as the burning desire for a Yautja to have their way with him already. 

_Patience._ The scientist reminds himself.

When the tokens of honor are finally delivered, half of the cargo hold is full of the two guests’ displays of worthiness and honor. The might of dozens of battles reflects in rare elements, giant skeletons, and polished skulls painted with intricate, otherworldly designs. Alexander stands next to one giant skeleton and puts a hand over what he assumes is the femur, in awe at how his large palm is _nothing_ compared to the massive leg bone.

From there, he hears his beloved Moon trill loudly from the cargo hold’s doors. Alexander flashes a charming smile and pushes his glasses further up his face. He scurries to the doors and follows his beautiful, fierce huntress to the dining hall. On Moon’s ship, the huntress has only the finest in chromatic metal design, with everything gleaming and lustrous in a beautiful reflective sheen. The hovering chairs and table are no different, though the table is laden with plates of gorgeous food and delicious-smelling brews.

Alexander helps himself to a glass and stands, not wishing to embarrass himself by moaning if he were to sit down. The plug in his ass feels so _right_ , stretching beautifully in ways both painful and positively poignant. He wants to writhe and thrust his hips, to gyrate into an invisible mess of flesh, but he understands his place tonight, and he understands he is not the star of the show. He wants Moon to have a successful mating session, especially if he is part of it—whether fucked by her or bred like a bitch in heat by the two men irrelevant. Alexander gladly welcomes all Yautja to his body, a desperation blooming deep within him to _touch_ _feel taste smell_.

His huntress sits at the head of her table. She is dressed lightly, in mobile leather apparel with traces of stark white fur sewn into the straps. The fabrics cling to her chest and mammalian glands, yet aside from a strap going over one shoulder, there is nothing else to hold them up. Alexander feels himself peak inside his slacks. He shifts his weight from one side to the other as his gaze slides down Moon’s body and soaks in her barely clothed crotch. Even at a slight distance, he smells her _need_.

 _My dear, if only I could help prepare you as you have me._ Alexander sips his drink, the glass in his hand unnaturally large. It has been made custom for him, as it lacks the strange spout-like aspects most of the glasses and jugs in Moon’s ships display. Alexander’s face warms at the reminder: his huntress cares about him enough to buy him his own glasses.

The two guests eat amidst simple chatter, the tones of each Yautja casual and far from hostility. Moon responds in her own tongue, leaving Alexander curious as to just what the three discuss. More than once he finds Moon glances or gestures to him, along with the two Yautja guests occasionally peering at him like he is a piece of meat.

Maybe he is a piece of meat. A dutiful, excited, _needy_ piece of meat, one desperate to bend over and allow his huntress to take as much as she demands. His muscles squeeze instinctively around his plug as he thinks about Moon wielding a strap on and pounding him into oblivion. It would only be right she takes him with something phallus-shaped after assisting him with so many toys.

Eventually, the two guests finish eating. The pair look at each other, both Yautja’s gleaming black and brown eyes locked in an intimate stare. Alexander’s groin throbs at the thought of what it would be like to have Moon look at him the same way. Eventually, he fidgets where he stands. It draws Moon’s attention; the huntress pulls her bio-mask off her waist and clasps it to her face. She calls to him, and the translator software voices every word in monotone, “Alexander.”

“Yes—Yes, my dear?” Alexander strides up to her side. He is shorter than her, _painfully_ shorter. His lean frame only accentuates how much height the woman has over him. When Moon looks back at the two guests, Alexander’s shoulders begin to slump. He questions if Moon forgets him, when he suddenly feels her grab him and throw him over her lap. “Ah—Oh—Yes, this is—Quite the chair!”

“They wish to hear what you sound like in the bedchamber.” Moon speaks quickly, but the translation software can only go at such a pace.

The words force heat into Alexander’s gut. He swallows and nods. “Is that so…?”

“Sly Life and Blood Spasm are honorable men. They will understand if you do not wish to demonstrate your submissiveness,” Moon assures her with a string of incoherent clicks and the following translation. He exhales sharply, then gasps and bucks his hips against her lap when he feels clawtips rummage his hair. “I will not force you to do anything.”

“Force?! You? Never! You are—Are—An honorable woman—” Alexander writhes against his huntress when her hand lands on his rump. She fingers his waistband through his lab coat, then clicks at him to remove it. Alexander eagerly does so, throwing it aside before the scientist returns to laying sprawled across her lap. “Yes, yes, an honorable woman—As I was saying—Please! Go right ahead!”

It is the last sound he makes before she pulls his slacks down and exposes his bare ass. The base of the plug is visible; Alexander remembers seeing it in the mirror before he dressed for the duo’s arrival. When his huntress grabs the flared base, Alexander arches his back and presses his hips into her lap. Moon begins to retract the plug.

It pulls a cry from his lips when the stretch becomes unbearably painful: burning and strangling his nether regions like he is incapable of anything else. The stretch is so bad he whimpers against his huntress, yet the masochistic side of him craves _more, more, more_. When Moon stops, Alexander begins to whine and plead with her. He leans into her touch, panting and pleading for her to continue, for her to give him the treatment he deserves. She adheres to his words; the huntress begins plunging the plug back inside his ass, pushing it through the ring of muscle and beyond his sphincter. Alexander wails as he bucks his hips and begs her to continue.

“Moon! Moon!” He has no shame calling out for her, knowing the two Yautja yearn to hear his submission. Alexander’s mouth hangs ajar and he lets out a long, curdling scream when Moon begins pumping the plug into him at an increasing rate.

The man hears his huntress’ pants, even through the mask she dons. The scientist feels the plug hit the deepest recesses of himself, where he is nothing but a point of pleasure screaming and sobbing for more. His eyes clench shut, and he moans and fumbles through incoherent syllables, all as lost in the feel of the control Moon has over him. When he approaches the peak, when the man can no longer think but of the orgasm pounding his body—He screams, and he screams, and he _screams_. Alexander bellows and cries aloud through the long orgasm; he sprays semen across Moon’s lap but in a second her hands are up his shirt and on his back.

Slowly, with more tenderness than he remembers her for, Alexander relaxes under the huntress’ comforting touch. He breathes slowly and calms his racing heart. He feels himself lifted and plopped on his huntress’ lap between her thighs. She caresses his cheek with one hand and with the other, the man whispers, “Does that satisfy them? Or do they require something more thorough? A _scientific_ approach?”

Moon is silent, but Alexander hears the mandibles of clacking laughter from the two guests at the table. He looks over and finds the one called Sly Life chuckling, the slim yet well-toned Yautja utterly relaxed where he sits. His black pelt melds seamlessly into his black locs, as pitch and dark as the void of the farthest expanse of space.

Sly Life says something to his lover, a much larger and beefier Yautja called Blood Spasm. The latter throws his head back and howls with raucous laughter, then nods.

Blood Spasm is a big fellow: a walking wall of muscle whose skin seeps red and a darker sanguine-red hue around the knees, elbows, and face. Black lines lash across his back like the netting of his thermal mesh. His locs have been twisted, then twisted again into an intricate double-twist style, then adorned with multiple metal bands and shining beads. The bulge in his groin is especially prominent and large, to the point Alexander finds himself ogling it and the possibilities of watching Moon suck in the cock or, _by the Gods_ , witnessing it disappear into his hole.

“Alexander, I informed them of your desire to participate in the process,” Moon’s translator voices in monotone, even as her hands rub his back slowly. Alexander blushes and smiles.

“And?” The scientist knows not to be so coy, but he can’t help himself.

“Sly Life is willing to entertain you when he and his mate are through with me,” The mask flashes blue briefly, translating Moon’s clicks into darling words for him. In a second, Alexander writhes and squirms his messy way—his poor slacks, pressed and dried just hours ago—to sit upright. He moans at how the plug presses into him when he sits on Moon’s thigh.

Notably, the scent of her grows thicker. It is pheromones, triggered by increased levels of arousal, and it pleases the _shit_ out of Alexander. He hums and grinds his hips against her, occasionally gasping whenever the plug bumps into the spot grinding his prostate. When Moon puts a hand on his head, he questions if he has upset her, but he receives his answer in a surprisingly affectionate sweep of his hair. Her clawtips feel so _right_ gliding over his scalp, to the point he stills and leans into her touch.

Sly Life begins to click, leaning forward in his chair as he does. The slim Yautja tilts his head to one side and rests his arms on his knees.

Moon’s reply—a flustered string of chirps—is automatically translated, “He is mine.” 

The two Yautja guests chuckle and laugh to each other. Sly Life claps his hands and trills with approval.

Alexander is so enthralled by Moon’s confession he doesn’t notice when Moon finally sets him on his feet and gestures at his slacks. The man laughs at his own embarrassment, at his own mess spilled down his thighs, down _her_ thighs. He accepts a cloth napkin—another thing just for him, Moon doesn’t care about grime when baths are readily available in her ship and automated cleaning systems sanitize everything when not in use—and hastily wipes up his mess from his own legs, then from Moon.

He feels her tense as he dabs at her pelt, slowly rubbing circles in her inner thigh. One, then the other, and when both are clean, Alexander feels the urge to lean in and press his lips against the soft flesh. He refrains, but his eyes flit up to Moon’s masked face. His grin is crooked and wild, every bit revealing of the man’s libido and anticipation. Smelling the influx of pheromones at his small gesture fills Alexander with a sense of pride. The scientist straightens upright and pulls up his slacks, “Moon, my love, please inform these two gentlemen I am honored to be considered. They are gracious and honorable warriors, nothing but the finest cut of chiseled Yautja, and I wish you three all the best in tonight’s rut.”

Moon translates for him, quickly clicking away with a hint of amusement and a second hint of her own flustered self. Blood Spasm nods once whereas Sly Life laughs and chirps something in return.

“You will watch first,” The huntress leans back in her seat. Her hands tense in a way indicating her own anticipation. She pauses when Blood Spasm trills in a low, husky tone, before the huntress growls back at the men, clicks in a disturbingly calm tone, and stands.

Alexander doesn’t know what to think when Moon grabs him by the wrist and pulls him to the door. The two Yautja guests are left to dine on alien cuts of meat and intergalactic fruits while Alexander’s beloved huntress lets go and leans down to his eye level. Her mask flashes blue once as she clicks, the translation making him pause.

“The two will invite you when they are ready. If you intend to mate with both, I advise you revisit the preparations in your bedchamber,” and Alexander can see it, the _heat_ seeping through and churning lust until it overflows in Moon’s voice. “I will not permit them to hurt you. Alexander. If at any point you wish to extract yourself from the situation—They will cease their actions immediately, or I will remove their skull from the rest of their body.”

Alexander’s eyes light up. The man practically swoons at the thought of Moon saving him from a dragon, as if the two are a prince and a knight from old Earth fairytales. He cannot resist throwing his arms around her torso and declaring, “Oh, Moon, my Moon—You _do_ care about me!”

“That is—” The translator software cuts out as Alexander begins babbling about how grateful he is to have her.

The satisfaction he gets when Moonless Night begins to sputter and click incoherent noises is nothing short of divine.


	3. the mating dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone is going to fuck everyone in this story  
> It is Inevitable  
> There shall be Smut  
> It shall Be So

The scientist is late, having been _preparing_ on his own for the past hour. The three Yautja have already begun the mating dance in his absence, with the roars and howls of the ongoing fight a thunderous choir of pleasure in his ears. The man cannot meander around the outer edge of the _kehrite_ fast enough, narrowly avoiding flying pieces of debris and stepping around the pool of _thwei_ , blood, when Sly Life crashes into the wall a foot ahead of him. The Yautja merely snarls and pulls himself to his feet, running forward and tackling Moon across the training room.

It is awkward frolicking past the combatants and to the far corner of the training room, where a humble chair is waiting. It is nothing fancy—observing the mating dance never is—but Alexander finds it comfortable as he sits with his clipboard and pen sprawled in his lap. He has changed pants and foregone the lab coat, knowing that if any Yautja wishes to undress him, he wants to undress quickly lest they cut off his clothes in impatience.

Moon has done that once, when the woman’s honor narrowly avoided her riding him into a new cycle. It was one of the first heats she went through after the two began their travels together, back when he was the unsuspecting, bashful man and she the stern, confident huntress. He had never expected her to develop feelings first, let alone _at all_ , and after a collision in the ship hall left her straddling him—Things had almost escalated.

 _Almost. Pity._ Alexander grimaces internally. His lovely, gorgeous huntress is indeed honorable, but sometimes the honor gets in the way of the _fun_. He doesn’t scorn her for that, merely daydreams on the could’ve been’s and what if’s. His imagination runs wild briefly as he envisions what it could have been like, on a ship in the middle of nowhere, with only the stars as witness to the interspecies union.

He has dreamed many times of the event since then, dreaming of a time where Moon has her way with him, where he gives her control. The act of entrusting her with his body is absolute, something he imagines the huntress to extend toward Sly and Blood this fine spatial evening. He cannot help envying the two Yautja men vying and throwing punches, kicks, jabs and feints across the training room; Alexander understands he could never be the same, that he is simply one of the soft meat, the _pyode amedha_ , yet he yearns to try regardless. He will fail, and Moon will have him pinned under a finger in a second, but oh—How it _dazzles_ him, all of it. It is an enrapturing thought, capable of making him hard even after he has gone through the trouble of masturbating beforehand.

He is a foolish man. He cannot defeat the huntress he longs for, and even if he does—His stamina is nigh obsolete compared to hers, or any other Yautja. But that is part of the draw, the _call_ he feels to bow down and offer himself as a delicacy for three Yautja to indulge. He wants the unknown, with all the claws, the teeth, muscles, veins, and scales. He _needs_ it, in a way he has never needed something before. He _wants_ Moon, but he needs _something_.

A howl across the _kehrite_ draws his attention. Alexander sits upright, meandering with the buttons of his fancy shirt long enough to undo them and splay the shirt open. His bare chest is visible due to the shirt’s large size, a drawback to Moon shopping for him when the duo visited the City of Stars on planet _1406b._

On the floor of the training room, covered in scratches and missing the upper half of her garb, it appears Moon has finally been brought down by one of the visiting Yautja. Alexander purses his lips and sits upright. He grabs his pen and writes the star date on the top of a paper attached to the clipboard, then he begins to scrawl out details of the encounter.

 _Blood appears to have grappled her._ Alexander hums briefly, eyes flicking between the now thrashing huntress and the man pinning her to his chest. _He has her in a hold I remember seeing a long time ago on an Earth screen. Chest to back, with her arms dragged and wrenched behind her. Blood’s muscles are rippling from how tightly he grabs lovely Moon. I can smell the pheromones in the air; all three Yautja present have grown aroused._

He decides to unbutton his pants and pull the fly down. He calmly, with all the professionalism of an established voyeur, resumes writing with one hand, clipboard balanced on a thigh, while his other hand strokes his aching, trembling cock. His eyes saunter from what he does to himself to what the two Yautja men are about to do to Moon.

The heat is a wonderful time of a cycle.

* * *

She knows she is beat, but for a moment the huntress vies to struggle anyways. It is all part of the fun, the _dance,_ the test to determine if either of her old allies are worthy of seeding her. Early in the fight, she had almost knocked _Kwei-nan’ku_ unconscious from how hard she threw the Yautja into the wall. He has since rebounded, bouncing on heels even now as he strides up to where Z’skuy’thwei’s thick arms keep M-di-Luar-ke-guan pinned in place. To her bemusement—not that she intends to let Z’skuy get away with his _cjit_ —the red Yautja lifts her up until her back is pressing into his stomach, her legs in the air and kicking helplessly.

 _“Gave us a run for our honor there, Luar-ke!”_ Kwei clicks in admiration, stretching his arms and cracking knuckles as he eyes her up. _“You pick up a few tricks since last time we met?”_

 _“I’ve had time to experiment.”_ Luar-ke keeps her voice level, but her mandibles twitch as her black eyes lock with Kwei’s impish brown ones.

 _“With your ooman companion?”_ Even now, against all odds and expectations, Luar-ke is impressed. Kwei has yet to refer to Alexander as anything but an ‘ooman companion’. He picks up quickly on respect, something she demands of anyone boarding her ship, much less boarding with the intention to mate.

Luar-ke howls and hisses when Z’skuy tightens his hold on her, though the man finally sets her on her feet. He doesn’t release her, but Kwei moves forward and cups the tall huntress’ face, cradling each mandible like she is the last huntress across the stars. The huntress huffs at both Yautja. “You two are more dramatic than before.”

 _“I enjoyed the sounds the ooman made earlier.”_ At the right side of her head, where her locs emerge and pull back into a braid cascading down her back, the woman hears every chirrup and trill. Z’skuy is a massive man, especially for a _sirer_ , and there is no denying with his deep, loud voice permeates her senses. _“I want to put on a… show. I want him to anticipate us.”_

 _“Oh, now you want to pauk him? S’yuit-de, Z’skuy!”_ Kwei moves and whops his mate on the arm. The latter releases Luar-ke and, in a second, snags the shorter, slimmer Yautja, then pulls him flush against his chest.

 _“Perhaps Luar-ke can wait,”_ Z’skuy hisses, hands already grabbing at and ripping off thermal mesh and leather apparel. Kwei sneers at him and writhes against the man’s chiseled, well-toned chest, spurring a roar of intent and declaration of lust.

In a second, Luar-Ke has gone from the focus to afterthought. She clicks in short chortles, shaking her head even as Kwei is wrestled to the floor. Z’skuy runs hands up and down his partner’s thighs, eventually unbuckling his armored kilt and removing his thermal mesh suit. While the blood-red Yautja throws his mate’s legs over his shoulders and fucks him into the floor, Luar-Ke strides to the wall and grabs her bio-mask. She pulls it on, hissing when the sensors dig through her flesh. With her mask, she sees her old allies rutting like rabbits in extended heat, with Kwei writhing and yelling at Z’skuy things like _harder_ and _I’ve taken fake dicks better than yours_.

She resists sighing when Z’skuy grows impatient and pushes Kwei back to the floor, then turns the man over and thrusts into him from behind. The new angle must do something for Kwei, as the usually talkative Yautja becomes a waterfall of cries. Z’skuy grunts and slams the two’s hips together, building speed until he mounts the man to the hilt and Kwei roars and thrashes on the floor.

 _“Lovely,”_ the sarcasm rings through. Luar-ke shakes her head. _“I invite you into my ship, I permit you to court me and earn the right to meet me in the kehrite, and what do you do? You two mate. With each other.”_

 _“Talk to him,”_ Kwei flails and points to Z’skuy’s panting form, at an angle awkward due to his face still shoved into the floor. _“He could’ve waited until afterward—But m-di! Impatient ass.”_

Z’skuy rumbles with pride, _“You enjoyed it.”_

 _“Well, sei-I, but that is not the point,”_ The man beneath him growls. Kwei flails again trying to get Luar-ke’s attention _. “Forgive us both, Luar-ke. I would bow at your feet and offer a thousand r’ka skulls, but I am currently—”_

 _“Don’t try and move.”_ Luar-ke huffs. _“I'm not responsible if your ass tears.”_

 _“Happened once before,”_ Kwei clicks, only to gasp when Z’skuy shifts how he stands over the slimmer Yautja. _“Hey—Hey! Careful! Cetanu be praised—Z’skuy—Ah—Pauk!”_

Z’skuy retracts from Kwei just enough to have the other Yautja keening underneath him. _“You were saying?”_

While the two mates sort their shit out, Luar-ke checks on her ooman companion. The man is so focused in writing and jotting notes that Alexander does not notice her approach until she stands directly next to his chair. Luar-ke feels a note of amusement watching him jump and drop his pen. The scientist exhales loudly and throws up a marvelous smile. “Sweet, wonderful Moon—You fought valiantly! I apologize for not being present to witness the start of this grandiose display… Time got away from me.”

He strokes himself on occasion under Luar-ke’s gaze. The huntress does not mind; it is appropriate given the setting. Even outside the _kehrite,_ there is a part of her buried deep inside that finds the concept of observing Alexander pleasuring himself incredibly… satisfying. Satiating. _Delicious._ Appealing, in a lewd manner most Yautja would shame her over. If not for producing only pure Yautja pups, the huntress might have dabbled in experimenting on a closer level with the scientist. _Might_.

She watches him a moment anyways, her black eyes locked unto how his hand moves elegantly through the unzipped opening of his slacks. Her gaze is piercing, enough to pry a shiver from Alexander’s form. He slowly meets her line of sight and Luar-ke finds, to her surprise, there is a knowing gleam within the bright blue eyes, as if he _knows_ she wants something of him, of his flesh. Alexander calmly puts his pen down on the clipboard and cocks a brow. “Moon, you can look as much as you like.”

Luar-ke’s face fills with heat. She finds herself nodding before she overthinks things. The lust in her body forces tremors to wrack her form. She watches Alexander carefully free his cock and allow it to hang out in the open air of the _kehrite_. Luar-ke swallows and draws her mandibles tightly together across her mask as she makes a mental guess to the length.

It is hard to resist the urge to spread herself and take him right there. Her brain dabbles in the concept longer than she likes, triggering a new release of pheromones from her body. Luar-ke forces her head away. Even with the mask on, she feels sheepish and asinine. _S’yuit-de, Luar-ke! Lusting for pyode amedha…_

But it’s hard not to. Alexander may not be a Yautja, but he is _hers_ , and she cannot deny—though she often does—the soft spot the huntress possesses for the eccentric, science-driven man. Given he is less _science_ opposed to questionable study methods and endless questions these cycles, his innate curiosity and willingness to try new things continues to marvel her. She wants to learn everything about him: what makes him tick, how he can nap outside a pod, where the man first discovered his need to possess visual aids in the form of old glasses… 

_“Luar-ke!”_ Kwei’s loud voice breaks her from her daydreams and thoughts.

The huntress straightens upright and tears her eyes away from the erotic sight of Alexander slowly pumping himself. She catches a waft of Kwei-nan’ku through her mask’s filtered air. He smells of his and Z’skuy’thwei’s mingled scents, evidence of the two’s mating in addition to the seed that is sure to drip out of Kwei’s rectum. Luar-ke presses on her bio-mask at the edges until it begrudgingly gives and unclasps from her deep, dark blue scales. She tears it off and tilts her head to one side.

 _“Sei-i?”_ The woman crosses her arms.

 _“Come here.”_ Kwei stands at the corner, a slight limp to the confident sniper.

Though Luar-ke wants to tear into the man for giving her a command, she is too overwhelmed by the need to mate to care. She hands her bio-mask to Alexander.

Luar-ke growls as she stalks over, her hands now at her side and curled into fists. In a second, Kwei snakes an arm around her waist and draws her flush against him.

 _“Now. Where were we? Z’skuy?”_ Kwei clicks at his mate, who presses into Luar-ke’s backside. The woman grits her teeth to keep from moaning, refusing to give either Yautja the thrill of knowing it pleasures her until they prove themselves worthy of praise.

 _“This hole is mine,”_ Z’skuy’thwei hisses and seizes hold of her hips. For a moment, Luar-ke groans and wonders if the man intends to have her already, but to her surprise she feels his unsheathed cock probe her sphincter. Her eyes clench shut and she moans when the blood-red man rolls and grinds the head against her cheeks. Z’skuy flares his mandibles. _“Luar-ke! You have been bested in honorable combat—”_

 _“Shut up and pauk me already—”_ She is mid-way through her rant when Z’skuy roars and rolls his hips into hers.

Luar’ke’s back arches and she presses into Kwei, howling at the feeling of something large and riddled with _barbs_ pushing deep inside. She knew from the beginning Z‘skuy would not be easy to take, but even with her own preparations, and with the man applying lube to himself before either began the mating dance—It hurts. By Cetanu, it _hurts_. She feels someone heft her legs up around a set of hips and instinctively Luar-ke bellows so loudly it leaves a ringing noise in her head. She clings to the warm body in front of her, grasping at and against the toned chest as someone—Kwei—rubs hands up and down her arms.

 _“I told him to use more lube. I think most of it's in me, apologies,”_ Kwei-nan’ku utters in soft, sweet clicks. The man cups her face and caresses her mandibles, then leans forward and entangles his mandibles with her own. The two’s tusks click together in growing volume as Z’skuy begins thrusting into Luar-ke’s ass.

 _“Pauk—Oh, pauk, oh, by the gods, by—Payas—Pauk!”_ Luar-ke repeats in a messy ramble, overwhelmed by sinful pleasure and a gut-wrenching pain. She feels so full, so _stuffed_ , she wonders if she may tear. She has no desire to back out of this mating, and she will not, not as long as she can remain conscious, but she wallows in the sensations until she finally snaps her head back and _roars_ , voicing all her ire and intent to pummel any pleasure out of Z'skuy's bones later.

She shuts up when Kwei-nan’ku opens his inner jaws and his tongue snakes out. He spreads his mandibles wide before slipping forward and tracing her inner jaw’s gums with the tip of his tongue. Luar-ke opens her mouth and groans into the ‘kiss’, meeting Kwei’s tongue with her own and allowing him to push hers down and writhe into her taste buds. He tastes like skin out of a shower, clean and soft and ready for her to indulge upon.

As Luar-ke becomes more invested in the duo’s embrace, Kwei shift how she hangs off his hips. The thick, blunt head of Kwei’s cock rubs against her slit. Luar-ke feels Z’skuy slow just enough for Kwei to buck his hips upward and pierce her in one go. She roars and bellows at the sudden intrusion, now fully lost in the throes of her lust. Her mind blanks and all she can think about is how desperately she needs _more_.

The writhing is part of the fun, the squirming and thrashing fuels the mating dance for all three, as the two men take turns thrusting inside her, each as powerful as the last with intent to leave her begging for more. It works; Luar-ke cannot keep up a strong front when she reeks of lust, dripping natural lubricant until a puddle is visible on the floor beneath where she is held up by two lovers.

Z’skuy grunts loudly, occasionally howling in the display of dominance. Luar-ke struggles to move in tandem with him and Kwei, a desperation to finish the climb to _pleasure_ just out of reach, but she doesn’t have the room to reach her summit. She bucks wildly against both men, but their grip is ironclad. She begins to curse and cuss expletives in different languages, running through the list in her head until Kwei-nan’ku’s tongue finds hers once more and ravages it.

The pressure builds until she is a lost cause, slack against the two Yautja with her head nestled in the crook of Kwei-nan’ku’s neck. Luar-ke pants heavily while Z’skuy’thwei continues to thrust, the man beginning to go faster, yet it isn’t enough. Luar-ke groans as Kwei joins his mate in pounding her into submission. The two Yautja now squeeze her against both bodies, tight enough for her to feel their cocks rub the other through her flesh as the two piston into her flesh.

All at once, both men are bucking and heaving, crushing her between walls of muscles. The two’s grips become tight and desperate, mirroring Luar-ke’s clenching muscles and the unspoken tension of coming orgasm. With a sudden thrust, Z’skuy rocks his shaft up and squirms until it is nestled deep within the huntress. She throws her head up and roars as he ejaculates and spills heat in her flesh. From her front, Kwei groans and hisses as he clutches her hips and holds her still for him to hump every drop into her form.

Luar-ke is a mess when it is all over, with Z’skuy firmly pressing into her ass with no chance of slipping free. The swollen base of his shaft has _popped_ inside; the back of it now rubs against her sphincter. Luar-ke grits her teeth and fights the urge to move. She wants to. Even after the first orgasms of the night, she _yearns_ to grind and ride Z’skuy until his cock can’t stand straight come morning light.

She doesn’t, for the sake of his genitals and the rest of the evening the group must get to.

When Z’skuy softens and slips out, Kwei is immediately sweeping her off to the side, tugging and pulling with hands wandering her form. Luar-ke lets him lay her on the ground. He hefts her legs up, pushing them at her chest until Luar-ke takes a hint and holds them in place. She clenches her eyes shut and stifles a sharp cry when he penetrates her. The pleasure shoots fire through her overstimulated nerves, but the huntress belts out curses and praises alike while Kwei fucks her into the floor. His body leans against hers and shoves her down with every rock of his hips.

The _kehrite_ presses against her back, unyielding and cold. Luar-ke howls again as the sound of wet, slapping skin overwhelms her hearing. Kwei clicks eagerly at each new noise, the man ruts into her until she sees only stars shaped in his image. A strangled cry is torn from Luar-ke when she finally lets go and orgasms; her body locks up and she twitches and shudders. Kwei-nan'ku slowly rocks his hips into hers and holds himself in place as he climaxes and dumps his seed deep inside. He pulls out afterward, then looks with longing, admiring eyes up down her spent body.

 _“Even better than I remember. By Cetanu, you always give us a good time,”_ Kwei catches his breath. His mandibles twitch up at the edges. _“Luar-ke, how do you feel?”_

 _“It’s not enough,”_ the huntress sits up and holds her head in her hands. Though the brief moments of pleasure help, nothing has yet to satiate the call of her heat, the _desire_ to lock flesh and fuck into a new light. _“Some of it—Some of it is satiated, but—I haven't exited heat. We need to continue."  
_

 _“Ah, forgive me. I’ll need a moment to go another round, I want to grab a drink and clean up. Don't miss me too much.”_ Kwei winks at her, an action which makes her growl at him. The Yautja chuckles to himself and walks back to the _kehrite_ doors, disappearing beyond.

When she looks over, the woman spots Z’skuy’thwei crouched near Alexander, clicking loudly. A ping of curiosity fuels Luar-ke to rise and call to him. _“—Z’skuy! Do not forget why you are here.”_

 _“He wants a show.”_ The burly Yautja snaps in return. _“He wants a show, does he? Taking notes on us… What kind of piss poor image debauchery is this? My penis is larger than that,”_ Z’skuy waves a hand at the clipboard, or where Luar-ke thinks the clipboard is. She grimaces as the Berserker Yautja begins raving away in grueling clicks every detail Alexander has gotten wrong about the man’s cock. At one point, Z’skuy rubs himself until he unsheathes—an action Alexander _ooh_ ’s and grins wildly at—before the man thrusts his hips forward and holds himself out. His erection is proud and mighty, and it is difficult to remember the cock was in her ass until she sees Alexander lick his lips.

She clicks at him and shakes her head. The ooman pauses, confused, but complies and keeps his lips to himself.

 _“You don’t have a washroom connected to the kehrite here, do you?”_ Z’skuy sounds unimpressed.

Luar-ke’s black eyes narrow. _“Don’t insult my ship.”_

 _“Do you?”_ The Berserker repeats.

 _“M-di. Go clean your cjit up.”_ Luar-ke clicks, waving the nude man away before he offends her again. She pauses once he exits the kehrite, a strange silence befalling the room once Alexander and she are left alone.


	4. tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexander continues to want the Y(autja). 
> 
> Kwei-nan'ku and Z'skuy'thwei are horny shits who want each other as much as either want Alexander or M-di Luar-ke-guan.

Tension. _The state of being stretched tight, a mental or physical strain._

The two definitions Alexander knows off the top of his head—as far as _Earth_ definitions go—do not fit. Or, perhaps, the second definition does, but not in a sense he understands and processes. To say there is tension between him and the huntress sitting nearby is undeniable, yet the man finds the presence of tension… strange. Unknown. Uncertain? He is uncertain, _yes_ , and his uncertainty baffles him, as does the hesitation in his beautiful huntress nearby.

Something is off between the two. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want the silence. He has half the mind to speak, to babble and go on as if nothing has changed, but the _here_ and the _now_ are not like they have been in the past. In other heat cycles, during the peak of Yautja mating season, his beloved huntress has always been more reactive than outside the heat. That part is normal. What isn’t normal—and it takes a long pause for Alexander to think of any possibilities, the man distracted by how wonderful Moon smells nearby—is the fact she has been… _vocal_ about it. _Open._

 _He is mine,_ the words she used during the pre-dance feast ring in Alexander’s head.

The Yautja has chosen him. _Him._ Perhaps— Not for the same purpose, not in the manner a Yautja does a mate, but in a selective way, nonetheless. He is hers. He was always hers, but to hear _her_ declare it, to know she activated her mask’s translation software to voice it aloud for _him_ to hear and understand speaks decades of the time Moon has spent thinking of the matter. She has thought of him, and thought of him some more, and done so in a semi-possessive manner without veering into the abusive, controlling tendencies he recalls hearing of on Earth a _very_ long time ago.

“What does it mean to be yours, Moon?” Alexander dares the words, slowly running fingers up and down his cock. He does not mean to be lewd throughout such an _imperative_ conversation, but his blood races and his groin throbs for attention.

The huntress stills. Alexander sighs internally, utterly blissful in the knowledge of increasing pheromones and the wild scent of his huntress. Moon shifts how she sits, from cross-legged to folding her legs underneath her and leaning back against the _kehrite_ wall. She growls and fumbles to clasp her bio-mask back on her face.

A moment later, the translation software voices in monotone, “You are my companion. My ooman companion.”

“’Companion’ is such a vague term, mm?” Alexander inhales deeply. He struggles not to give in to his urge to jack off in front of the huntress. He wants nothing more than to thrust away until his palm is as raw as his cock from the friction alone. The pain would be rewarding, a means to remember the night’s wholesome activities.

But he stops fondling himself when his huntress clicks abruptly. “Why do you ask? We have discussed this before. You are my companion. You travel, conduct research, and take notes, as you are right now.”

“If I am being honest,” Alexander pauses long enough to grab his clipboard and pen, flipping the clipboard over and revealing his poor doodles of himself standing next to his depiction of Moon. “I took notes at the beginning, but it is becoming harder to concentrate when you are right there. You are not typically this submissive.”

“Not submissive to a human does not mean I veer from submission. There are times it is appropriate. The mating season is such a time.” Moon explains, but all Alexander understands is the word ‘submission’.

His eyes widen at the thought. He shifts how he sits before his erection becomes too painful and too obvious.

“Do you ever feel sexual arousal outside the mating season?” Alexander dares to ask the question.

For a moment, he thinks the woman might laugh. Moon has certain tells, like the half-intake of air through her mask when breathless, or the angry blushing to indicate she is flustered. He recognizes a tell in her shiver, in how he touches upon something she does not think much of. Alexander waits patiently until the huntress trills and chirps with sharp notes.

“Yes. There have been a handful of occasions my attraction was piqued outside the mating season’s heat. A handful—It appears to be rare.” Moon’s mask voices the translation.

Alexander grins cheekily. He tilts his head to one side, half-lidded eyes scouring the huntress’ nude form. “And did any of those times involve me?”

Oh, to ask such a question in the _kehrite_ , after he has seen what poundings his huntress has taken into herself, he is an imp and a devil wrapped into one! A fey folk and sultry siren! He pushes his luck, but to his surprise: his fortune has not run out.

Moon’s face tilts to look to the side. She reeks of lust, of need, of demands to be worshiped and spoiled, taken and adored, everything and nothing wrapped into one—

“All of those occasions involve you.”

Moon bows her head and growls after. Her mask’s software does not translate anything. Alexander stares for a long moment, thoughts swirling around his head. For as much as he adores Moon and the hilarious situations the two often find themselves in, nothing prepares him for those words.

 _Do I make you…_ The words trail off in the man’s head. He hastily rights himself, tucking himself back into his pants and pulling the zipper up with careful fingers. Alexander clears his throat. “Well. This is—Not how I anticipated this conversation going. But as with all things involving you,” his lips curve up, the beginning of a soft smile settling on his lips. “The results are beyond pleasing.”

* * *

He originally means it as a quick in and out of the washroom, as the man is eager to return to the mating session at hand. Yet when the big, burly red Yautja hears his mate come in, he cannot help but let his mind be filled by _other_ thoughts. His body moves as if on autopilot, coming up behind Kwei-nan’ku’s slim form with the trained precision and silence of a lethal warrior. Z’skuy’thwei holds back the hiss he yearns to unleash right before he seizes Kwei from behind and wraps his arms around him.

His head buries in the man’s neck. Kwei laughs at Z’skuy, likely expecting this from when he first walked in. _“I will urinate over us both if you don’t let go.”_

 _“Fine.”_ Z’skuy grunts, hungry for more but understanding.

He decides not to leave his mate alone, as he yearns for at least one opportunity to hold him against the wall or tilted floor and claim him bare. It is something the two have spoken of during their pillow talks, where the serotonin-induced high of sex lulls both into fantastical conversations, often discussing fantasies they have with one another. It is how Kwei introduced him to the fantasy of being ‘claimed’ in another’s _kehrite_. No sooner than M-di-Luar-ke-Guan first responded to the two’s request for a mating session did Z’skuy begin making plans to fulfill Kwei’s fantasy.

Now he can make another of the two’s fantasies come true. He has already taken the time to fetch lubrication from the ship’s washroom. The pink paste is a beautiful invention: a material capable of short-term cell augmentation. While repeated, long-term use is ill-advised, there is nothing dangerous about short encounters using the substance. Z’skuy holds in his hiss of need when he strides up to Kwei’s back after the latter finishes relieving himself. His free, pasteless hand rubs Kwei’s arm up and down while his other shifts impatiently near the man’s ass.

 _“Do you mind?”_ Z’skuy makes his husky clicks obvious in intent.

Kwei cocks a hairless brow. _“Do I? No. Does Luar-ke? Possibly. Probably.”_

 _“Pauk her, we will pauk her many times tonight, why not enjoy a moment for ourselves here?”_ Z’skuy exhales loudly.

Kwei slowly nods. He relaxes against Z’skuy’s touch, allowing the latter to help spread his legs, then take his hands and put them on his hips. Instinctively, Kwei spreads his ass and allows Z’skuy to kneel and get a closer look. When a finger first prods Kwei’s asshole, the Yautja shudders. Z’skuy feels a burst of pride and swell of triumph as he pushes one paste-covered finger inside. He hears Kwei react: the man keels and keens, mewls and moans before holding himself up against the wall with both hands. He can no longer keep his ass accessible; he is soon panting while Z’skuy thrusts the finger into Kwei and stretches his mate.

 _“Good…”_ Z’skuy compliments him, and Kwei hisses and thrusts his hips out for more.

It comes in multiple fingers. Then, after Z’skuy is sure the man is sufficiently stretched, he lines up his newly unsheathed cock with his partner’s puckered anus. Kwei tenses more and more when Z’skuy first penetrates him, pushing in roughly and without care. At a point, Kwei moans into the wall and clenches down on him. _“Pauk—Pauk—Z’skuy’thwei—”_

 _“You need me to move?”_ Z’skuy intones. Kwei nods, but the man isn’t having it. Z’skuy tilts his head to one side and imitates Kwei-nan’ku’s habit of raising one hairless brow over his eye.

Then, with the roar of a lion within him, and the shout of pleasure from his partner, Z’skuy thrusts and buries himself into the deepest loins within the man. He rubs against the altered flesh inside, marveling at how Kwei whines like putty in his hands. He smacks the two’s hips together. Kwei writhes and bucks back against him, but he is nowhere near strong enough to overpower the Berserker and usurp control of the mating.

Z’skuy fucks his partner until the latter is unable to speak, knees quivering and semen dripping out of the man’s hole. Z’skuy pumps himself dry in slow, deep thrusts. Afterward, he pulls out with a disgusting snail-like pace, reveling in every lewd squelch and the sheen of sweat atop his partner’s flushed face. Kwei pants heavily. The latter groans when Z’skuy squeezes his ass a final time. _“Tight.”_

 _“For you? Naturally,”_ Kwei chortles softly, but gasps when Z’skuy rubs a finger against the man’s entrance. He grits his teeth and growls. _“Again?”_

 _“One more?”_ Z’skuy offers, ready to return to the _kehrite_ without delay if his mate says no.

He feels a swell of shock, of pride, and of glee when Kwei thrusts his hips backward and rubs them against Z’skuy’s groin. “ _Ki’cte! We don’t want to dawdle—”_

Z’skuy has never enjoyed interrupting someone so much.

* * *

She doesn’t say anything for a while. In part, Alexander worries his words might have pushed the huntress over an unspecified boundary. He frowns at the silence, at how his beautiful Moon keeps to her lonesome on the ground. His gaze eventually locks on hers, blue eyes versus the visors of her mask. Then, to his bewilderment and increasing pulse, Alexander sees her move with a ferocity far beyond what the two Yautja guests have displayed thus far.

He is thrown from his chair to the ground. The man grunts an _oof_ when he hits it. A muscular body climbs on his and his erection strains against his pants. The metal mask already tells him who has attacked him, but like the hopeless, bumbling man in love he is, his heart races too quickly to think of anything to say or do, much less _want_ to say or do. His blue eyes widen as he stares at Moon.

Her hands grip his shirt.

“Do you understand what you do to me?” Her mask’s translator asks, stiff and monotone. “Are you aware of the frustration you invoke in me? How close you are, and how I cannot…”

“Cannot?” He breathes the question. “Or _will not?”_

“Fuck.” It is a curse of need and of frustration, and genuinely the best thing he has heard until now. Alexander begins to grin at the mask’s translation, only to moan when Moon grinds her hips over his and presses the two’s groins together.

“Oh, Moon, Moon—Oh, if you—If you keep—Ah—” The scientist’s back arches, and he thrusts up into his huntress’ waiting embrace. Alexander cries aloud as the woman continues to grind against him and rock against his clothed erection. Faster, faster, _faster—_ Until she is bouncing on him, howling and roaring through the friction. Alexander sees stars when she rubs directly over the head of his concealed cock. The man keens and submits to the call of orgasm, feeling himself shoot all over the inside of his pants.

Moon comes to a sudden stop, panting loud enough to be heard over her mask. She climbs off him and growls with frustration, but it sounds directed at herself.

Alexander whines at the loss of heat and contact. He shakes as he sits up and props himself up with his forearms at his sides. Moon walks away, but her glorious scent fills his nostrils and Alexander moans softly. The noise makes the huntress freeze from halfway across the _kehrite_ floor. It gives Alexander a marvelous idea.

“Moon,” he pleads to her back, begging for another second of her time. “Moon—I—I feel so—invigorated—I might just—”

She looks and he makes a point of rubbing himself over his pants. Moon stiffens and tenses.

Alexander moans aloud. “Should I—Should I do something about this? About—Myself?”

His pants are already beginning to peak again, straining and burning his throbbing groin.

He moves his hands to the fly of his slacks.

Moon pants louder.

Alexander unzips his pants and frees himself once more. He slowly runs a hand up and down its length.

“ _Moon,_ oh, oh—Moon—Please—Touch me there—Touch me,” Alexander growls the words and pinches the head of his shaft. “Please—Please— _Please!”_

His hips wriggle. He shimmies partially out of his pants, exposing the curve of his round ass and slim thighs. Moon croaks in a way unlike her, in a way screaming _hunger_ , and in a second, he can no longer touch himself because she has picked him up and slammed him unto the ground on his stomach. Alexander yelps when his bare stomach meets the floor. He grits his teeth when a hand comes down and smacks his ass cheek. Hands grab and grope his ass; Alexander squirms and moans under his beloved huntress’ touch. For his actions, Moon shudders and squeezes his right ass cheek. A clawtip dips to the man’s sphincter and hooks around the base of the plug inside him.

Then—The finger presses an inch _around_ it. Alexander squeals and bucks his hips wildly.

“Fuck—More! More!” He croons and pushes against her. There is a little lube left inside him from his plug insertion, enough to ease the finger when the damn clawtip returns and writhes past the plug. The noises he makes are primal. Alexander curses as the woman fingers him against the plug. Moon breathes heavily, panting like a man in the desert in need of water, as she thrusts and digs her finger into him.

“You are mine,” the mask translates a feral click.

“Yes—Oh, god—Yes! _Yes!”_ Alexander wails when a second finger joins the first. He humps weakly against the floor. “All yours—Sweet—Kind—Moon—Yours! _Yours!”_

The stretch is a ring of fire around his puckered anus. The scientist can only hold out for so long before his stamina depletes. He gasps and convulses when the third finger bunches up with the other two. There is no containing the pained sounds, a sickening delight pooling in his groin as he fails to gyrate his hips to the tune of the fingers fucking him. Everything is painful bliss, the perfect strain, and the purest _tension._

God, he loves this Yautja. This otherworldly goddess, with thighs as thick as they are delicious, whose eyes are like the deepest pitch of the void, whose fingers rub and scrape against that _deep_ spot of wonder buried in his flesh—

* * *

Somewhere on the ship, there is a weeping cry of joy. The call of ecstasy fills the ooman’s lungs, evident when the person screams in the distance. The noise is loud enough to interrupt two Yautja in a washroom, where the two mates are in the middle of intimate throes of one another.

 _“Should we—Should we check it out?”_ Kwei pants and looks over his shoulder when Z’skuy halts. _“Think Luar-ke and the ooman are intact? We’re docked at a space station, Z’skuy—”_

 _“Luar-ke is obsessed with him,”_ Z’skuy intones. _“She’ll protect him—And I’ll protect you. I’ll destroy anyone who interrupts us.”_

The two Yautja eye each other a long, tense moment before Z’skuy pins Kwei-nan’ku against the wall once more and grunts. Kwei doesn’t have time to think or move or _scream_ before he is dragged back through his world of pleasure at Z’skuy’s hand.

 _“Z—Z’skuy! Z’skuy!”_ Kwei blurts out, squirming and wiggling when his mate grabs him. The larger Yautja squeezes his cock and chortles under breath when Kwei stills, panting heavily. Kwei growls, only to whimper at the sensation of barbs tugging and stretching his sphincter.

Steam rises from the washroom, causing condensation to form across the tiled walls of the chamber. Kwei feels Z’skuy’s other hand push his face against the wall. Large, muscular legs—such a beautiful crimson, such tantalizing sanguine marks beneath the huge scars riddling his mate’s body—flank and press in on either side of Kwei-nan’ku’ hips. There is nowhere for Kwei to go, only a wall to press and clumsily grab hold of as his mate seizes him from behind again, and again, and again. He is crushed to the point he almost has trouble breathing, on the edge of wheezing and screaming his four hearts out in raw ecstasy.

He does not, refusing to give his lover the pleasure. Z’skuy’thwei and him are two peas in a pod, with kinks aligning _just_ right where the stubbornness of one fuels the other. Kwei hisses at Z’skuy, enjoying the growl he provokes. He cusses into the wall when Z’skuy’thwei pulls out to adjust the angle, but he screams _—_

_“Augh!”_

_—_ when the man begins to push back inside.

Kwei cries out at the new insertion, the barbs of his lover’s dick grinding and embracing his inner walls. Thanks to a certain cell-augmenting paste, every damn push and pull inside the man causes Kwei to belt expletives with pleasure. The temporary nerves are all spots of pleasure, almost as gratifying as his prostate, and Z’skuy shows no mercy in pulverizing the lot of them.

He doesn’t know how long the two are like that, with Z’skuy thrusting Kwei-nan’ku into the washroom wall. Kwei loses track of time as his mandibles shudder and his mind blanks. All he focuses on is the sensation of Z’skuy, of the Yautja claiming him, mating him, filling him to the brink—It is an intoxicating thing, driving Kwei wild.

Even in his exhausted, spent state, he weakly tries to buck into Z’skuy’s hips in the joining of flesh. He tries—fails—to moan loud enough to voice his affection. He wants to tell the man sweet nothings until the end of all nights, but he cannot. His mind only thinks of Z’skuy, of the rich red color in its glory, of the cock impaling him and making him see stars.

When he orgasms, he screams and bellows the name of his lover in every language he knows. Z’skuy holds him steady and shushes him with a low, rumbling purr as the man’s orgasm takes control of his body. Kwei-nan’ku can do nothing but convulse and squeeze painfully around Z’skuy’s barbed cock, the embrace needy and desperate to keep him there. Warm tingles run up and down Kwei’s form as he pants heavily and lets his body fall backward, into his mate’s waiting arms. He growls softly at the painful stretch of Z’skuy tearing his cock free of Kwei’s rectum.

No warmth spills. It dawns on the man his mate has yet to finish.

 _“You haven’t—”_ Kwei begins, irate the man is pulling the very _cjit_ he dealt with just prior to the two boarding Luar-ke’s ship. _“Z’skuy! Z’skuy, release already! By Cetanu, stop making me wait!”_

 _“I’m saving myself for later,”_ His mate growls.

The latter struggles to remain standing up. Kwei growls. _“For someone who’s had every hole of my body, you enjoy pretending I’ll steal your bhu’ja through your dick! S’yuit-de… Foolish thought.”_

He knows his words rile something up in the man. He sees how his mate suddenly tenses and grabs hold of his ass with consideration. Z’skuy purrs slowly, hinting at the relentless mating Kwei-nan’ku _needs_. As much as his mate pushes him around in the bedchamber, Kwei demands total devotion: he craves the sounds of release, the call of climax, and the sweet gush of heat in his loins.

He _needs_ Z’skuy to climax.

 _He_ needs it.

It pisses him off to see Z’skuy’thwei click with calm laughter. The hands on Kwei’s ass leave and with it any hope of being bounced on his mate’s dick for hours. Kwei growls in displeasure and his mate dismisses the action, dissipating any tension and ire in the room by pulling him over to Z’skuy’s burly chest. Kwei exhales sharply when he is suddenly flush against Z’skuy, with the other Yautja calmly rubbing his forehead against his own while free hands rub the man’s back and through his twisting locs.

Kwei melts into the big, beefy, burly, _handsome_ Yautja’s embrace. He cannot resist Z’skuy’s affection, Z’skuy’s scent, Z’skuy’s encroaching arms when he wraps them around Kwei and nuzzles into the man’s neck. Kwei angles his head so his mate can brush sharp mandibles against the softer flesh. He moans openly, _weakly_ , when Z’skuy nips at the base of his neck. Kwei-nan’ku feels a shudder twist through his form when Z’skuy begins purring.

It doesn’t make the issue go away.

 _“You want the ooman,”_ Kwei accuses, barely able to form words when his mate holds him so _gently_. He feels tired suddenly, like he might fall asleep if he doesn’t remain on guard to his mate’s damn allure.

 _“Sei-i,”_ Z’skuy is honest. _“I doubt he’s… Taken Yautja cock. Before.”_

 _Alexander…_ Kwei shudders. It is too appealing: the thought of the shorter, scrawny human man nude and open for all to take.

He appreciates Alexander’s enthusiasm and demeanor in expressing interest in such fornicating, as Kwei-nan’ku does not believe he would ever think twice of the matter otherwise. He and Z’skuy have only ever visited Luar-ke for joint hunts or mating sessions in past cycles, particularly the latter; he and Z’skuy have produced many pups through Luar-ke. At least three of those pups have gone on to surpass expectations in their respective _chiva_ s. But now the two have found _another_ reason to visit their dear friend and her questionable companion.

 _“He’ll be tight,”_ Z’skuy hisses with need. His unsheathed cock presses into Kwei’s abdomen, oozing pre and making Kwei growl at the prospect of cleaning up _again_.

 _“Calm down. Luar-ke is counting on us to help with her heat. We need to help her first and then check our options,”_ Kwei, when he can stand without becoming a pile of mush at Z’skuy’s touch, begins cleaning himself up _again_. Z’skuy does likewise, with both mates quiet and relaxed the longer time ticks on. Kwei helps his mate wash up and allows Z’skuy to do the same for him.

The two wind up against the other, with Kwei’s seven-foot-two frame snuggled into the musculature of Z’skuy’thwei’s impressive seven-foot-six. The latter wraps arms around Kwei again and purrs contently for his mate. Eventually, they detach and resume preparations to continue the mating session with Luar-ke. One Yautja grabs a bucket of pink paste and the other provides witty commentary on the walk back to the _kehrite_.


	5. watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Smut
> 
> Slowly getting closer to letting Alexander have the Y(autja)  
> Hopefully it's obvious by this point but?? Alexander has a thing for his own pain  
> He's a 33 yr old with masochist tendencies and a need to fuck and be fucked

“Moon?” Alexander croaks when he sees straight again.

He isn’t sure how long he remains sprawled on the floor, semen sticking to his pelvis, pubic hair, and thighs. His cock lays limply against his right leg. He lacks his pants.

The man feels his ass ache when he sits up. He tries again, calling to the Yautja pacing endlessly around the training room. The scientist narrows his eyes and rights his spectacles before he shouts, “My lovely—Moon! _Moon!”_

She jumps where she is pacing. Her head snaps to look at him. The nodule on the side of her mask flashes briefly before translating the Yautja’s clicks, “Are you okay?”

“I believe I am,” Alexander cracks his neck, then his knuckles. He inhales sharply when he feels the plug still deep inside him, filling him up and keeping him stretched for later use. The man grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut. “I am—Ah—I see we are still at this—”

“Did you pass out?” Moon’s mask does not show signs of concern, but he knows _she_ does.

“I am fine, simply an orgasm, nothing more, dear,” the scientist huffs and dismisses her worries. “In fact, I daresay I want another one! You have a way with working me like I am a cow udder waiting to be milked. Your fingers are exceptional, Moon… Oh, Moon…”

He feels his nipples perk up at the thought of someone gripping them tightly, squeezing and playing with the milkless teats… _That_ arouses him. His penis aches but he feels himself grow semi-hard. Absentmindedly, the man pumps his shaft until it is a proud pole once more. He stands up and stretches before looking at Moon. The huntress— _his_ huntress—is quiet, withdrawn, horny, so many things and yet nothing he can immediately relieve.

_Unless I…_

“Moon, we need to talk,” Alexander flops back into his seat but leaves his legs sprawled open, hiding nothing as he grabs his clipboard and clears his throat. “I understand it is in your best interest to pretend you are not endlessly enamored with myself, yes, but these things—They are changing who you are, Moon! You are losing yourself to this futile endeavor of attempting to keep yourself off me!”

He has her attention now. Alexander swallows his nerves—His Moon, sweet, dearest Moon, she has the most unnerving, captivating eyes.

He wants to see them squeezed shut beneath him, her mandibles flaring and an alien cry leaving her throat as he makes love in a disgustingly romantic way. _Missionary to start. Then… From behind. She struggles to hold me up as I woo her body as much I do her heart._

He finds himself absentmindedly rubbing the head of his cock. It dawns on him Moon stares like a deer caught in headlights as he touches himself. Alexander cannot resist his cocky grin as he begins to masturbate again. His cock becomes hard and he thrusts into his hand, slow and steady, without intention to climax versus _demonstrate_ what he can do for her. He moans loudly for emphasis, seeking and reveling in her reaction when Moon shivers where she stands.

“You are—You are—” Moon’s helmet translates in pauses, as if conveying the shudders the huntress makes with every second. “You don’t understand—How close I am—To losing control of myself—To having you—”

The doors to the _kehrite_ burst open and Sly walks through with a wave. The nude man strides to Alexander, clicks in approval, then continues to Moon who immediately leans into his touch. Sly’s dark pelts melds with Moon’s deep, dark blue one. Alexander marvels at the sight of his huntress willingly allowing Sly to touch her, to caress her, to feel out the plane of her flesh and curve of her muscles before hefting one leg over his hip while he squeezes an ass cheek.

Alexander intends to retreat to his chair, but Sly’s mate—the _massive_ , large Yautja who reeks of muscles and death—comes marching through with a bucket of intricate pink paste in his arms. The scientist identifies it as a special form of lubricant, where the concoction reacts to certain proteins in the flesh to build new nerve connections in the skin. He shudders and rubs himself harder at the realization of what the paste entails: the night has only just begun, and the mating session is far from over.

He turns to move back to his chair, but Blood Spasm hisses at him from the side. Alexander purses his lips and glances over to where the Yautja stands towering over him. The giant Yautja easily has a foot over him, just shy of _two_ feet if he must guess, and the semi-hard dong protruding from his sheath reeks of strange smells. Blood Spasm clicks and trills at the scientist with a strange tone behind the words. Alexander doesn’t know what the words mean, but he nods anyways. He watches Blood set the lubricant down. He yelps when Blood Spasm grabs him and pulls him to his chest.

“Hello, yes,” Alexander mumbles, face filling with heat. He feels himself harden at the sound of Moon’s gasp from nearby. He turns to look; his blue eyes delve into the sight of Moon’s slit clamping down on Sly’s cock as the latter pistons away into her.

Blood Spasm begins to purr against the scientist, causing Alexander’s head to fall forward and a whimper to crawl free. He feels Blood’s hands rip at his remaining clothes, then roughly tilt his head up. The next series of clicks are blunt and quick. Alexander has no idea what any of it means, but when Blood turns him around and has him face Sly and Moon, he gets the idea it has something to do with the Yautja in coitus.

* * *

 _“We are going to please her before I get to have you,”_ Z’skuy’thwei resumes purring for the human in his grasp, enjoying how the shorter lifeform’s back feels against his muscles. He feels the scientist gasp and fall against his touch, every bit as malleable as he suspected him to be. With a growl of want, the Berserker lifts Alexander up and thrusts his erect cock between the man’s thighs.

“Ah—Ah—You have—Fascinating, most—Most—Fascinating,” the _pyode amedha_ mumbles in the haze of lust. Z’skuy is pleased to feel Alexander try and grind against his cock when he stops moving between the man’s legs. “Fuck… Oh, fuck, that is—That is good—Right there—Ah—Almost—”

Z’skuy catches on to what Alexander wants. The man nearly gets a barb of Z’skuy’s penis in his sphincter, hooking into the edge of where his stretched entrance meets the plug base, when Z’skuy suddenly drops the man on his ass. Alexander coughs and sputters as Z’skuy’thwei hisses.

 _“Watch.”_ Z’skuy purrs.

The scientist’s crooked smile shows his joy. Or—His obliviousness, it is hard to say for sure.

 _“But first…”_ the hunter hisses and kneels next to Alexander. The scientist pauses when he spreads the man’s legs. Alexander pants and groans when Z’skuy pushes the man unto his back and lifts a leg up enough to expose his ass. There, in its glory, is the plug which has stretched the smaller ooman beautifully throughout the day and evening. It is the plug which has worked dutifully to expand the limits of Alexander’s take. It is the plug which has pulled so many divine noises from the man’s strange, fleshy lips.

It is time for the plug to come out.

Alexander writhes a little in delight when Z’skuy pins him with a hand over the ooman’s abdomen.

Z’skuy growls and the other hand hooks around the flared base of the man’s plug. The ooman stops and stares at Z’skuy, eyes widening when Z’skuy gives the plug a twist. Alexander howls when Z’skuy pushes the plug in a centimeter.

Behind the two, Kwei busies himself pounding howls out of Luar-ke.

“You—You want it out?” The scientist’s words bring Z’skuy out of his trance. He hisses and nods in affirmation. Alexander pants and shuts his eyes. His smile surprises Z’skuy. “Please—Take it out! I’m prepared!”

The screams are ugly when Z’skuy begins to wrench the plug free. Nearby, both his mate and the two’s host stop mid-coitus to watch Alexander writhe and thrash in agony. Z’skuy purrs gently to calm the pained ooman, but to the Berserker’s surprise—Alexander begs for more, pleading and twisting while the Yautja tugs on the plug. He doesn’t have time to process why the ooman enjoys his pain before a dark blue figure leaps to the ground and comes sprinting at him. Z’skuy yelps as Luar-ke body-checks him, the impact releasing the plug from his grasp. Alexander groans as the plug pops back inside him.

It happens quickly. The mating musk produced by the gorgeous huntress fills Z’skuy’s head. He goes from imagining himself pinning the ooman to wanting to pound the huntress’ brains out. But he cannot, because after his body hits the ground, powerful arms overpower his own and Luar-ke pins him—his back to the floor.

 _Cetanu!_ This is the _cjit_ he lives for! Z’skuy growls as Luar-ke’s body weight crushes him beneath her.

He bucks his hips weakly, yearning to be filled, to fill, to _something_ , but all he succeeds in doing is making his mate laugh. Kwei chortles from where he watches at Alexander’s side, no doubt making sure the ooman is alright in addition to mocking Z’skuy.

Luar-ke’s hiss is venomous as she bears down on him. _“If you hurt a hair on his head—”_

 _“He said it was okay to remove!”_ Z’skuy snaps.

“Moon! Oh, Moon—Moon—” From the side, Alexander’s weak voice is a calm to Luar-ke’s storm. The later stills and looks over her shoulder where the man sits up and fixes the plug in his ass. “I did say—I told him—It was acceptable—To—To take it out— _Ah_ —It is… It is in me again… Ah… ha…. Quite a predicament…”

Seeing his chance, Z’skuy flips the woman on top of him and pins _her_ to the floor. His massive frame is not quite as tall as she is, but his muscles give him an imposing presence. He revels in how beautiful she is, in how much she _reeks_ of the mating musk, of _n’dui-sei_ —He will enjoy having her. He will enjoy sharing her with his mate and fucking the ooman after.

 _“You pauk,”_ Luar-ke hisses at Z’skuy.

It is not the coded message established at the earlier feast. Such a safe phrase is the key to cease everything and separate individuals for a time. But Luar-ke does not say it. Z’skuy waits a second to make sure, but when he sees the gleam in her black eyes, he pins her wrists by her head and bucks his hips into hers. She howls as he grinds himself against her body.

 _“I’ve been dominated by three Yautja before. Two bearers, one sirer, and the feeling of their body controlling mine is something I have never forgotten,”_ Z’skuy clicks intently, purring after. He rocks his hips against the woman’s once more. _“Kwei! Kwei, I want her before we—”_

 _“Sei-I, sei-I, if she says you can have her, have her,”_ his mate responds, moving to sit next to Alexander and lean down to examine the plug. 

_“Do you want someone to seed you, Luar-ke?”_ Z’skuy inquires with a sharp hiss.

The woman seethes beneath him. When he stops moving against her, she cusses him out. Finally, after minutes of expletives and writhing to get the man moving again, the huntress finally quiets down and hisses, _“Sei-i—Seed me!”_

Kwei clicks at him. Z’skuy looks over and immediately sees what his mate intends to do. He grits his teeth and releases Luar-ke’s arms. The man moves to position himself at her slit, pressing her legs back until he can easily reach her body. Her puckered anus remains sore and raw from earlier, a sign of the things to come.

 _“I want you to keep something in mind. You are the show. Every time my cock fills you—Remember this is all for him. For your… Alexander,”_ Z’skuy growls and pushes inside. His barbed cock clings and grabs at the inner walls of Luar-ke’s slit while she howls and roars from the girth, the length, the _everything_. She feels hot to the touch and delightfully wet. As her body stretches under him, Z’skuy grabs at the woman’s chest, where a pair of mammalian glands barely rise in the shape of ooman breasts.

He struggles to get all of himself in. He begins bucking and thrusting forward past the blissful, spongy textures of the woman’s pleasure points. Luar-ke throws her head back and wails when Z’skuy rubs his dick into one such spot.

 _“Z’skuy’thwei—Z’skuy! Z’skuy,”_ Luar-ke keens. Her legs squirm to wrap around him in some way, but Zskuy grunts and lifts her up by the hip enough to make it challenging for her to do so. He digs through her with each thrust, pumping and smashing until Luar-ke cannot repeat his name loud enough to satisfy _him_.

Nearby, Z’skuy sees Kwei take position and wrap his hand around the plug inside the ooman’s rectum.

 _“Kwei! Kwei—Move—Move him—Let him see me mate with his Luar-ke,”_ Z’skuy growls. He hears Luar-ke howl in pain when he suddenly pulls out. Z’skuy swoops Luar-ke into his arms and stands in front of Alexander. He hears Luar-ke pant and whine weakly while he turns her to face her precious scientist. He picks her up and hooks arms around and under her thighs, keeping her legs pinned to her chest while simultaneously spreading them open.

Kwei reaches out a hand but stops just shy of the head of Alexander’s cock. The latter exhales softly and blushes bright red. Alexander nods at Kwei; Kwei takes the shaft in both hands and begins to massage it. Tiny moans break free and Alexander begins to pant heavily. Kwei lets go long enough to move behind Alexander, positioning the thirty-three-year-old man in his lap as his legs flank the ooman’s hips. Kwei purrs gingerly for him, then resumes pumping his cock with blunt fingers.

“Oh—Oh—Gods—yes—Like that—Like, ah, _ah—”_ The scientist can barely speak, too busy keening into Kwei’s chest. Alexander squeezes his eyes shut but a sharp growl from Kwei _and_ Z’skuy prompts the man to open them again. His face remains pink and red as he stares at Luar-ke in Z’skuy’s arms. Z’skuy growls and keeps his host wrapped up tight in one arm while the other unloops around her and shifts to her slit.

He makes a show of demonstrating how wet she is. His hand plunges into the slick, dripping folds. Luar-ke groans as Z’skuy thrusts his hand into her body. The natural lubricant produced by the huntress sops and falls in heaping globs unto the _kehrite_ floor. Z’skuy draws his hand back, rubs the lubrication along the head of his cock, and realigns it against the Yautja’s slit. She hisses when he presses the barbs along the rim of her entrance, teasingly drawing out what becomes a greedy moan for more.

 _“Take me already!”_ Luar-ke barks the order, only to _screech_ when Z’skuy lowers her over the man’s cock.

At the same time—Kwei’s hands drop to the flared plug inside Alexander’s rear.

 _“Easy now,”_ Kwei clicks. _“I need to take this out—”_

Z’skuy’s mate grabs the plug and pulls. Alexander cries out at the sensation, _“Yes—_ God! That—Like that—Yes—Yes— _Do it—"_

The pained wails become long, agonizing screams as Alexander struggles to stay still, soon thrashing and pleading beneath Kwei’s hands.

“Ah—Oh—God— _God!”_ Alexander trembles. _“Ah—Fuck!_ Fuck! It’s coming! It’s coming out! Oh, _god_ , fuck, fuck—I’m so close—Please! _Please—"_

The plug releases with an audible _pop_ and disgusting squelch. It is thrown aside. Alexander orgasms and bucks his hips weakly into Kwei’s lap. He ejaculates over Kwei’s lap and the latter growls and clicks irritably.

 _“I want him to see this,”_ Z’skuy pants heavily, on the verge of losing control and rutting Luar-ke into the ground. She feels _so_ good, a heated vise around his cock. Her gasps are music to his aural channels as he holds Luar-ke still and walks to Kwei and the scientist.

* * *

Alexander hears Moon’s whines and groans. Despite the pain razing his ass, he cracks open his eyes and looks up enough to see Moon impaled on the beefy red Yautja’s cock. Blood howls in triumph at the union, clearly pleased by Moon’s submission. Blood Spasm bucks his hips up, the barbed cock filling Alexander’s gorgeous huntress to the base. Moon throws her head back against Blood’s neck and roars at the ship ceiling. The woman howls louder and louder, increasing the volume of her noises as Blood begins to thrust into her. He holds her close and with a needy, tight grasp, as if the two are lovers rather than mating partners.

“Moon—Oh, Moon, my Moon, my darling Moon—Look at you,” Alexander smiles and gestures at the huntress. She growls but soon returns to moaning and laying back in Blood’s grip. Alexander’s blue eyes softens and he sighs wistfully at where Blood’s cock disappears into his huntress’ slit. “You are so beautiful, Moon, my Moon—So, so beautiful. I need to draw this…”

He thanks Sly when the slim Yautja rises and strides to fetch the man’s clipboard and pen. Alexander sits cross-legged on the floor and begins to scrawl the general pose of his huntress in Blood’s arms. He feels Sly sit behind him; the Yautja wraps arms around Alexander’s waist and moves one hand to the man’s crotch. Alexander’s face fills with heat but he holds in his moan when Sly brushes a hand against his limp cock.

“You are welcome to touch it—I am sure it is no different than yours,” Alexander smiles and looks over his shoulder at the taller figure.

Sly is easily over a foot taller than him. The Yautja’s mandibles clack together in soft laughter. In a second, Sly leans forward and spreads his mandibles wide enough to press his inner jaw against Alexander’s lips. The scientist opens his mouth in surprise only for a tongue to slip between his lips and caress his own.

 _Oh… Oh, they do kiss… That’s… nice… Very…_ Alexander shuts his eyes and leans into the moment. His heart pounds wildly in his ears. _I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss Moon. I want her to kiss me over, and over, and…_

Sly draws back, a strand of spittle falling from the two. The Yautja rumbles in satisfaction, the purr deepening when Alexander faces forward. Sly slots his head on Alexander’s. The Yautja’s hands return to the scientist’s hips and experimentally squeeze the flesh there. Alexander hums. “Oh, yes, my—My hips—Very reactive to, ahem, outside stimuli—Ah— _Ah—”_

Sly is not shy in rubbing and squeezing his hips. Slowly, the Yautja’s hands move forward and return to Alexander’s cock. He exhales sharply when Sly begins to stroke and massage the head.

It is made even more erotic by the sight of Moon on the ground beneath Blood, one leg in the air, as Blood fucks her from the side. The two Yautjas are their own mess of roars and growls, with Moon occasionally hissing or belting out what sounds like expletives from how hard Blood pumps into her. Blood seems to cherish those noises the most, shifting angles until he finds one which rips a screech from the huntress. Moon claws helplessly at the ground as Blood pounds into the spot and steals her chorus of snarls and grunts.

“Oh, Moon— _Moon!”_ Alexander squeezes his eyes shut when he hears his huntress moan. He pants and shudders, one hand gripping his pen tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. He presses his hips into Sly while the Yautja’s rough fingers rub against his cock.

Sly growls by Alexander’s ear. It makes the scientist _shiver_ with anticipation, but to his chagrin—Sly releases him and stands up. The man stares at Sly’s backside while the latter trudges over to Blood and Moon on the ground. Blood doesn’t stop thrusting even when Sly begin to click something at the two. Moon pants weakly and Blood laughs then pulls out. The sudden exit prompts Alexander’s huntress to keen and yowl in pain.

Alexander’s eyes grow big. He watches Moon catch her breath, then accept Sly’s hand in pulling her to her feet. Blood rises on his own, but he ensnares the taller huntress from behind while Sly embraces her from the front. It reminds Alexander of earlier, of when she took both Yautja’s phalluses across two holes. It was a remarkable sight, one emphasizing just how resilient the huntress is. Absentmindedly, Alexander’s free hand drifts back to his groin. He rubs himself teasingly while watching the scene play out between the three Yautja.

* * *

 _“You sure know how to entertain a crowd,”_ Kwei nuzzles her forehead and purrs when Moon’s thermal signature fills with heat. She feels Z’skuy return a hand to her slit while his other wraps around her abdomen and keeps her back to his chest.

 _“I know how to prepare myself,”_ Luar-ke grunts, then whimpers when fingers plunge inside her body. The thick, calloused digits and the sharp clawtips are painfully arousing in how quickly they thrust in and out of her. Z’skuy chortles from behind her and reaches deep enough to hit _the_ spot; she sees stars as she roars and her orgasm shakes her.

Fresh lubricant falls out in drops. Moon sees the heat signature from the fresh substance, as it just fell out of her incredibly hot body. She stares at it, briefly fascinated, before Kwei-nan’ku clicks at her. She growls at him. He runs hands up and down her arms _. “Do you want to call it here, Luar-ke? Or can we… continue?”_

 _“Use the paste,”_ the huntress clicks in response. She exhales softly when Z’skuy’thwei releases her and strides off to pick up pin lubricant. _“And—Go slow. It has been some time since… Since…”_

Kwei purrs for her, soothing the slight twist of worry in her gut. She leans down and nuzzles him, only to draw back and laugh when she feels his erection jab her side. She drops to her knees and looks up, daring the man to say something.

Kwei growls at her. _“—I know what you want to do.”_

 _“I’ve done it before._ ” Luar-ke reminds him. She clicks her chuckles at the sight of his face rising in temperature. Kwei-nan’ku is exceptionally appealing when he is submissive, though in the past only Z’skuy’thwei has had the pleasure of dominating him. Luar-ke wonders if she will ever get the chance to fuck Kwei-nan’ku the same way. The thought excites her, though she shelves it for another time.

When Kwei grabs her head and pulls her forward, Luar-ke spreads her mandibles as wide as she can. She opens her mouth and slowly guides the man’s cock beyond pointed, jagged teeth. Kwei groans crudely and grips her head with both hands while he fills her throat. Experience and times spent practicing on large vegetables keeps Luar-ke from gagging. She begins to bob her head, pulling her tongue around the man’s shaft while she warms him in her mouth.

He never reaches climax this way, as Kwei hisses at her to stop and pulls himself free once Z’skuy returns. Luar-ke crosses her arms and snarls in displeasure. She stands up and turns to let her rear face both individuals, then spreads her slit wide. Her _n’dui-sei_ hits the air. 

Kwei curses.

Z’skuy praises Cetanu under his breath.

 _“Paste,”_ Luar-ke barks the order.

The great glob of pink material is scooped out of the bucket Z’skuy brought it in. Both him and Kwei thrust fingers into Luar-ke and smear the substance across every inch of her inner folds. More than once, the two go back to get new paste and to massage paste into spots already reached, just to make sure nothing is missed. What the two sirers intend to do with her is no simple feat; even a Yautja must be careful in the size of things inserted into vaginal _or_ anal cavities.

 _“Me first,”_ Kwei steps up behind Luar-ke and grips her hips. He finds her slit easily and slides in. The feeling of his cock—defined, smooth flesh with an enlarged base and tapered head—sailing over and pressing against temporary nerves makes Luar-ke grab hold of the nearest individual for support. Z’skuy helps keep her upright while Kwei begins to thrust into her, stretching her with ease.

 _“Luar-ke, here, careful now,”_ Z’skuy’s voice dips into a softer note as he picks her up and puts her in Kwei’s arms. The latter sneers at Z’skuy’s slip in composure; Luar-ke pants as she watches Z’skuy cuss his mate out. Z’skuy glances at her, meeting her eye as she looks over her shoulder. _“For you—We’ll go… slowly.”_


	6. growing on me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of smut  
> More smut expected BECAUSE THE NIGHT IS NOT OVER!
> 
> These four are kind of the ot4 now. A group of protective assholes and their nerd.  
> I bet Kwei is the only one who knows how to cook.

_“Deep breaths,”_ is all Kwei-nan’ku says before Luar-ke clenches her eyes shut.

She feels both men embrace her. Z’skuy’thwei inhales her scent loudly and begins to purr while Kwei thrusts lazily into her body.

Having one cock thrust into her core is enough to leave the huntress howling. The idea of having _two_ in the same place is… absurdly erotic. Luar-ke shivers and leans against Z’skuy’s back while the latter purrs deeper. Kwei thrusts hard into her body, smacking into her pelvis at the perfect angle. His smooth cock is a perfect fit to body. She rocks her hips against him and clicks as the man moans.

 _“Wet, warm, perfect,”_ Kwei compliments and leans down to nuzzle her head. He joins Z’skuy in purring until Luar-ke begins wriggling and hissing at Kwei to move. The man clicks with soft laughter. _“What did we do to please the gods this much—That we get to indulge in you, Luar-ke?”_

 _“Gifts certainly helped,”_ Z’skuy’s comment is full of mirth. He growls softly and scrapes his mandibles down Moon’s back, hissing with satisfaction when her toes curl and she groans against Kwei. _“But the dinner—That was all her, wasn’t it? Kwei?”_

 _“All you, Luar-ke. Dinner and a show,”_ Kwei rumbles with growing need. He thrusts harder and hits a point which has Luar-ke seeing stars. She chokes out a noise of need and both men laugh.

 _“I think,”_ Z’skuy rubs the woman’s shoulders. He clicks as the tension melts from Luar-ke’s form. She relaxes into both men, leaning into Kwei-nan’ku and wrapping arms around his neck. She pants heavily as Z’skuy goes on. _“You’ve grown fond of us, Luar-ke—”_

 _“So fond,”_ Kwei moans as he continues rocking hips into the woman.

Luar-ke barely thinks with how hot she feels. Her body shudders and shivers as she clings to Kwei, seeking his warmth, his touch, _him_ , as he keeps the two engaged at a gentle but firm pace. She feels Z’skuy shift against her; Kwei lets his mate assist him in holding her body up. Z’skuy huffs and holds unto her with one hand while the other rubs himself against the curve of her rear. Luar-ke gasps at a sharp thrust from Kwei. She whimpers softly when the barbed head of Z’skuy’s cock drags along her ass over her perineum and to her filled slit. It rubs against her vulva and Kwei’s gyrating shaft.

 _“Can’t believe,”_ Z’skuy’s voice becomes deeper, a myriad of rough, hoarse clicks and growls as he intones, _“You’re letting us share you—”_

 _“Fill her, Z’skuy’thwei,”_ Kwei grunts. He stops in his thrusts and holds Luar-ke tight to his chest while Z’skuy positions himself. Luar-ke feels an immense burn around her slit as a wretched pressure and dreadful heat penetrates her already stretched body. The huntress’ back arches and she cries out as Z’skuy squirms and pushes onward. The barbs scrap not only Luar-ke’s inner walls, but drag along the side of Kwei’s cock; both Yautja yelp and grunt as Z’skuy joins the intimate embrace.

 _“Put her weight on me,”_ Z’skuy groans, fighting to keep himself together. Luar-ke shudders as Kwei presses her into Z’skuy’s arms. Z’skuy begins to purr while Kwei writhes clothes to Luar-ke and thrusts deep into her body. Z’skuy purrs at the sensation. He spreads his mandibles and licks along Luar-ke’s shoulder, trailing to her neck, then down her shoulder. As he drags his tongue back up, Kwei laughs at him.

 _“—You look like a—S’yuit-de—Fool—When you do that,”_ the man chortles.

Luar-ke pants weakly while the two mates banter back and forth. She knows Z’skuy is only _just_ in, that his girth and length has _so much more_ to go. Already, she feels stretched to the brim. Her body aches for movement, motion, _friction_ , but as Kwei stops, the woman is left frustrated and hissing softly.

 _“Luar-ke—”_ Kwei clicks at her. She looks at him and feels heat crawl across her face when the man strokes her face. His hands caress every mandible before he touches his forehead to hers and purrs gently. Z’skuy begins pushing deeper while Kwei purrs louder and louder, soothing the woman’s cries and snarls as she opens herself up for both of them.

 _“By Cetanu—Cetanu—You’re in there—Both of you,”_ Luar-ke’s head is a whirl of heat, cock, and pain. She claws into Kwei’s flesh while he holds her. She clicks not at him, but at no one, as incoherent noises continue leaving her mouth. _“I—I—Ah—Augh—"_

 _“Do you need us to stop?”_ Kwei clicks, seeking out her line of sight. She can barely process his question, but the woman growls.

 _“No—I—"_ Luar-ke whimpers. _“Close—So—Close—!”_

Kwei resumes his purring, no longer trying to thrust as Z’skuy bucks upward.

The latter purrs huskily. _“Halfway—Look at you—You’re taking both of us—Both—In one—One—”_

 _“Pauk!”_ Luar-ke howls. She throws her head back and bellows when Z’skuy’s barbs rub and pull along pleasure points deep inside her. She instinctively tries to clench down, but he’s too big, he and Kwei are _way too big_ , and she can’t get any kind of grip on either shaft. She tries anyways, fruitlessly gasping and groaning as her lower muscles attempt to ensnare the two’s dicks. All it does is fill her with desperation to have both dicks pounding away at her. If she can’t keep the two there, then she wants them moving, thrusting, toiling away and wringing every cry of pleasure from her throat.

She doesn’t even think about how Alexander will fare with two dicks in his ass. She doesn’t think about whether one cock might get stuck in her body, whether Z’skuy’s swollen shaft might plug her up and keep her _and_ Kwei from removing one another after climax—Luar-ke can barely think at all as she takes inch after inch of the Berserker. He moans and rolls his hips further into her own, clutching her so tightly that for a moment Luar-ke cannot tell where heaven begins and hell ends.

With a final growl and sharp thrust—Z’skuy shoves the rest of his length inside. His hips press into her rear and his cock throbs wildly. Kwei-nan’ku moans, his own dick twitching as he and his mate settle into Luar-ke’s wet insides. Natural lubricant gushes out of her.

 _“I—I,”_ Luar-ke keens, unable to finish her sentence.

She feels overwhelmed, overfilled, and helpless. Her body is built to receive the two inside her, and she takes them each as they stay, blissfully unmoving while she breathes and pants. The tension is visible across her form. She shudders even as the two men purr.

 _I want this._ She thinks. _I want this… I want to do this. I can handle two._

“Moon,” Alexander—her eccentric, baffling scientist—is suddenly at the three’s side. Luar-ke’s eyes snap open and her face fills with heat. She feels the man’s hands gently take one of her own and squeeze it. “My dear, you look—Beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing in the universe. I daresay, the most beautiful Yautja in the universe?”

His words make her blush deepen. Luar-ke doesn’t have words, only squeezes his hand with both her own. She throws her head back and keens when Kwei hesitantly shifts his weight from one leg to the other.

 _“You holding up okay?”_ He clicks at her.

 _“One moment. One moment.”_ She pleads.

 _“Take all the time you need,”_ Z’skuy nuzzles the back of her neck. _“We don’t need to do this…”_

 _“M-di—I want to,”_ Luar-ke hisses. _“I’ve fantasized trying this since three cycles past—"_

“Moon, have I told you yet how lovely you are?” Alexander interrupts her. He squeezes her hand again. “I have yet to find a Yautja as alluring as you, though these two come close…”

 _“He’s complimenting you.”_ Luar-ke strains not to growl. She exhales and breathes rapidly, pacing herself to squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax, in repeated cycles around the two Yautja’s penises. _“He thinks—He thinks you are—”_

“ _Does he know these dicks are going in his ass after?_ ” Z’skuy clicks.

Luar-ke growls, only to feel the two cocks rub against her in unison. She croons and inhales sharply, sucking in air and leaning back against Z’skuy’thwei. Her chirps are lighter and well-mannered when she clicks back, _“Only if he wants them.”_

 _“Sei-i! He’ll want them, just ask!”_ Kwei sounds optimistic.

 _“Need my bio-mask for that—Ah—Augh,”_ Luar-ke’s ragged breath makes both men hiss softly. The two Yautja grip the huntress tighter, though neither dare move. _“I need—Pauk, I can’t think—I can’t get it—”_

 _“Maybe we should ask… after?”_ Kwei suggests, waggling hairless brows and clicking affectionately at Luar-ke.

 _“Yes—Yes, Cetanu, yes—Yes, after,”_ the huntress slowly wiggles her hips. She pants heavily. _“Yes! After! After—After—After you—cjits—Move—”_

 _“Are you ordering us… huntress?”_ Z’skuy snarls and rubs his head against her locs, breathing in loud enough for the woman to pant.

_“Sei-i! Sei-I, sei-I, sei-i—”_

Luar-ke’s bellows of raw pleasure are not loud enough for the _kehrite_ to contain.

* * *

Alexander’s face blanks at the agonizing wails he hears come from his lovely huntress. He gasps and balks at how tightly she grips his hand, squeezing it harder and harder until he begins to plead for her to loosen her grasp. His beautiful huntress lets go immediately when asked, but after her attention shuts off him completely. The scientist takes a step back, both marveled and concerned, though he calms when he realizes it is not _pain_ that has his huntress yowling enough to ring his ears.

 _Ecstasy._ He identifies and notes her increase of pheromones. She is not only aroused, she is _sopping_ wet and filthy with lust, writhing and bucking in the arms of her guests. Alexander’s blue eyes fill with warmth and he relaxes as the two Yautja claim his huntress and take turns thrusting into the same hole.

The sight also makes him inexplicably horny.

He isn’t sure when he started having so much stamina, but the man feels his own erection rise after he ogles and voyeurs the three before him. His eyes bulge as he masturbates _furiously_ , unable to help himself when the sounds of indulgence ring around him.

His Moon is so _strong!_ So _brave!_ Taking not only _two_ cocks but up the _same_ hole, burying them in her warm velvety folds until she screams and roars for more! Oh, to see her so vulnerable, so submissive, so thoroughly spent and willing to expose herself like this—It does things to the man, it _does things_. Alexander cannot fuck himself enough, thrusting away into his hands until his dick throbs and weeps a large bead of pre. His mouth hangs ajar, and he fails to stifle his own cries as he slows and speeds up in moderation, lost in the glorious juxtaposition of the moment.

He wants to come with her. He _needs_ to come as she does, climax when she releases, share in the beautiful moment with not only her but the two handsome Yautja spearing her at that moment.

Alexander moans and pants harder, _heavier_ , as he rolls his hips and groans aloud. The noises draw the attention of the two Yautja thrusting away into _his_ beloved Moon, covering her with a sheen of sweat and provoking loud cries and snarls from the huntress. Her eyes snap open and flicker in his direction.

Alexander knows a Yautja’s usual thermal sight cannot see details like the colors of the stars, not without the mask. Yet in the heat of the moment, in the _throes_ of passion, the man cannot think of anything but how Moon looks at him, a _mess_ of lust, far from composure, utterly raw and exposed for him to soak in, and he _calls_ for her—

“Moon! Moon!” The man shouts until his lungs burn from screaming. “Moon, Moon, _Moon—!”_

* * *

The words come just as both men roar and bury themselves as deep as possible within her. The two cocks rub and writhe against the purest, blissful points in her flesh. Luar-ke arches her back and pushes her hips down to take them each to the brim, screeching as Z’skuy’thwei’s cock bulges at the base. She hears the Yautja growl and snarl as he writhes and forces the swollen flesh past her entrance, pulling her unto his hips and locking the two together just as the he orgasms.

Luar-ke does not realize she has called her scientist's name in ecstasy until she hears Kwei chortling from the side, already pulling out and pumping himself dry. The man shakes his head. _“My mate’s right about you two. Obsessed with each other.”_

 _“How long—Does it take for you to deflate?”_ Luar-ke clicks at Z’skuy’thwei, too lost in the blissful peace of post-coitus to care about Kwei’s truthful remarks.

 _“Hard to tell when I like the Yautja. You could say,”_ Z’skuy leans his head forward and holds her tight against his chest. He nuzzles the side of her head. _“You’re growing on me, Luar-ke… You and your ooman companion.”_

Luar-ke only then remembers the scientist is there. Her face fills with heat and she looks up to make out Alexander’s heat signature. She doesn’t need a bio-mask to know he watches her. Her mandibles twitch and she scrambles to think of an explanation.

“Moon, my love, if you wanted me so badly, you know—I’m always here,” Alexander strides up to her, voice hinting at what must be the smug smile on his face. The man doesn’t shy from the fact Z’skuy is still inside her, choosing to press forward against her chest and rub his head against her body. “I’m here, and I’m yours. And possibly theirs, if they are still interested—”

 _“Kwei-nan’ku, get my mask!”_ Luar-ke growls across the _kehrite_ , struggling to slip back into her usual persona. But even she cannot deny how heat sizzles in her gut, or how she blushes more than an Unblood with their first crush. And though she knows it should bother her—taking an ooman mate is still so _uncommon_ across the clans—it doesn’t.

Alexander is hers, after all; her ooman, and she his huntress.


	7. love is made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALEXANDER FINALLY GETS THE Y(autja).
> 
> And his favorite, a helping of pain to wash down all the smut.

Preparing for group sex is more than grabbing lube and snacks. There are boundaries to be discussed, safe words established, and the lines of consent drawn. For Luar-ke, she has already discussed _her_ limits with Kwei and Z’skuy over dinner, as well as relaying everything Alexander asked her to inquire about prior to the feast. But when it comes to her scientist, to _her_ ooman, to the man whose grin is as annoyingly endearing as it is smug and full of himself, she wants the group to pause and take a break to establish Alexander’s limits.

She winds up sitting cross-legged on the floor. Alexander has been kind enough to fetch a tray of cubed fruit and rare meats from the storage and bring it to the _kehrite._ Though the cubed foods are as big as a normal size for the ooman, Luar-ke is fascinated to see her ooman munch merrily on a fruit. He sits next to her, rubbing up against her thigh and torso as if nothing more than a cat. But he is not a pet—she could never view him as such—he is _Alexander._ Her ooman. _Hers._

But she’s open to sharing—At least with the two Yautja men sitting in front of the tray, the four surrounding it in a triangle-like shape. Alexander hums in delight as the exhausted party recovers stamina and refreshes themselves with food. The scientist constantly presses lips against Luar-ke’s torso between bites of blue fruit flesh; the action causes Kwei-nan’ku to laugh loudly and Luar-ke to shudder and blush. She doesn’t stop the ooman. She doesn’t _want_ to stop the ooman. In fact, she enjoys the ooman’s company so much that when Alexander winds up on her lap _again_ she lets him stay there.

He’s a beautiful individual. Handsome for an ooman, though not by Yautja standards. The soft, fluffy hair has infinite bounce among its rich brown curls. His skin reminds her of _tjau’ke,_ space dust, so pale and white she can make out flecks of color in his veins. Luar-ke squints from beyond her mask. She stares at the colors, at the semi-translucent skin, then glances at Alexander. The latter notices her looking and flashes a calm, melodic smile.

“Moon, beautiful Moon, have I caught your attention yet? I can feel your hearts _racing_ beneath your skin—” The man presses against her chest and nuzzles the scale-covered skin there. “You are so warm, a delight, I must remember to write about this later… Write about how indulging your skin is… Your heat… You… Ah…”

 _“Quite the talker.”_ Kwei-nan’ku laughs from the side.

Luar-ke begins to growl but the noise cuts into a soft moan when she feels Alexander’s alien lips kiss her muscles one-by-one. She clenches her teeth and utters a faint whimper as her skin tingles from the contact.

Alexander draws back and resumes eating his fruit like nothing has happened.

Z’skuy’thwei clicks with amusement. _“Imagine him trying that when you’re dick deep inside him, Kwei.”_

 _“I don’t intend to give him the opportunity. It appears lovely Luar-ke here is quite smitten by the ooman.”_ His mate shoots back, a twitch of his mandibles indicating the humor in his trill.

Luar-ke’s face could not burn more beneath her mask.

“Alexander.” She activates the translation software. “Do you know where your notes are?”

“If I didn’t, could I be a scientist?” The man replies between bites. He winks at her.

Luar-ke growls, but the mask translates it to monotone. “Write out everything you want to try tonight. A phrase you can tap out and speak to indicate you are done for the evening. Positions. What will make you more comfortable—”

She stops midsentence when the man’s arms loop around her neck. Alexander leans up and kisses her neck once, twice, then—On the third time he sinks his teeth into the flesh and bites weakly. Luar-ke’s shudder and prolonged exhale are noted by all three men in the room. Alexander chuckles as he lets go and licks the spot, not able to puncture her hide but denting her scales regardless. He kisses her neck and begins to suck where he bit, causing a whole new wave of lust to seep out of Luar-ke’s body and fill the air with her pheromones.

 _“Already?”_ Z’skuy cocks hairless brows at her. _“You want a hand, Luar-ke?”_

 _“I—I—Yes—Please,”_ she mumbles, pushing Alexander off her. She can barely crawl her way to the crimson red Yautja, climbing up on him while he strokes his cock out of its sheathe.

There is no lube to aid her, but the huntress positions his shaft against her slit and sucks in a breath before she drops over him. Her cry of pleasure is long and delayed. Immediately, Z’skuy bucks up into her and Luar-ke begins to roll her hips over his. She bounces on his barbed cock for what feels like days, unable to reach her climax but desperate to try in the moment. Z’skuy’thwei growls and leans back, watching as Luar-ke rides him with desperation. In the end, neither overstimulated bodies climax; Luar-ke climbs off the man with a hiss.

 _“Worth a shot,”_ Z’skuy clicks.

“And,” Alexander shoves a clipboard sprawled with _cjit_ illustrations at Luar-ke. She sits next to him and takes it, looking it over. She looks back at him and the scientist smiles warmly. “Oh? Do you have such little faith in me, my dear? I told you earlier—"

 _“He wants to try taking you both,”_ Luar-ke clicks curtly at the two guests. _“At the same time.”_

 _“Talk about big wants! I hope he knows it isn’t easy,”_ Kwei-nan’ku calmly strokes his shaft. _“You were preparing for this for how many cycles? And it was still rough on you.”_

“Alexander, your human physiology is not as resilient as ours.” Luar-ke decides to address the problem head-on. Her mask translates each click smoothly. “Nor do you possess a vaginal cavity. Your rectum is not suited for taking the necessary girth of two Yautja. It may bring more pain than pleasure—"

“Moon, are you worried about me? _Me?_ Alexander? _Again?_ ” The scientist climbs back into her lap and relaxes into her chest before she has time to think. She hears Kwei click with soft laughter and the huntress growls at him before reaching for Alexander’s head. Her hand gently strokes his strange, bouncy hair. It feels so soft and enticing…

She nuzzles his head with her mask. Alexander makes a strange sort of sighing noise, but it isn’t of exasperation or weariness. He sounds content, pleased, chuffed, any number of positive adjectives, because of her.

She likes that.

“I’ve been riding cock _far_ longer than you think, Moon. I mean, at least during my college cycles, however long ago those might be…” Alexander taps his chin. “You know, humans are more elastic than you think. Surely, you’ve seen a contortionist in your time? Moon?”

“Alexander, human flexibility does not equate to elasticity.” Luar-ke responds using her mask.

“Oh. Yes. Right. Pardon me, but that does not change the fact I am certain I can take them. They’ve come close while indulging in your… Beautiful, godly body… Oh, Moon,” the scientist rubs against her chest. He moans sweetly and inhales.

His lips kiss one mammalian gland and Luar-ke swallows nervously. _By Cetanu—How does he know how to subdue me?_

“Luar-ke,” Z’skuy clicks briskly. “Perhaps, instead of Alexander trying to have both of us… Let us start simple. Kwei-nan’ku can have him on his lap. I will have you from behind. You can watch the ooman and gauge how he does while I stuff you with my cock.”

“Always the honorable gentleman, are you?” Kwei clicks and laughs. Luar-ke shakes her head, amused.

Though Alexander inquires what the Yautja say, Luar-ke does not answer while she nudges her scientist to stand. He begrudgingly does so, stepping back and crossing his arms as if the two are clothed and he can adequately look grumpy. It’s endearing, in an _ooman_ sort of way. Luar-ke leans down and rubs her head against his until the man smiles and hugs her. 

“You are phenomenal.” He mutters under his breath. “I must be in heaven.”

 _Heaven._ The ooman equivalent of an afterlife. _Is that how I make you feel?_

“Alexander,” the huntress’ mask voices in monotone. “Sly Life will take you first. If you can handle him, there will be discussion as to your desires.”

“Discussion is all I ask, mm?” Alexander grins, devious, and pushes his glasses up his face.

He looks incredibly handsome as he is; perfect for ravishing.

* * *

The group does not meet for another round of sex in the _kehrite_. Moonless Night growls and barks what Alexander interprets as expletives when Sly Life and Blood Spasm begin walking that direction. Any humor in the event dissipates when surprise takes him and throws him over her shoulder; Moon hauls him like a sack of potatoes back to her private bedchamber with the two Yautja men in tow. Alexander’s eyes widen in delight when he realizes he recognizes the surroundings.

He has only been given permission to enter the huntress’ bed chamber a handful of times. It is well-maintained, clean, and tidy, with a wall dedicated to trophies, a wall to armor and weapons, and a _massive_ ‘nest’ of otherworldly pelts engulfing a dip into the ship floor. Alexander yelps when he is laid in the pelts. Moon stands upright and looks at the two Yautja nearby. She clicks something her mask does not translate, but by the following strings of clicks Alexander reckons the three Yautja are discussing the best way to do _this._

Him.

He feels a swell of excitement and flops back into the furs and pelts. His naked body sinks into the soft alien hairs of species he may never discover. He watches the three Yautja discuss the topic of _him_ passionately until all three come to a conclusion and look his way. He flashes a charming, eccentric smile, the smile only _growing_ when Moon kneels at his side and puts her hand on his. It is not intentional, as she snaps it back and begins to tense in her angry, flustered sort of way, but the brief contact makes heat pool in Alexander’s groin. His erection slowly rises, a proud pole between his legs.

“Alexander. Sly Life will attempt to copulate you first. If that works—Then—Blood Spasm. Are you alright with that?” Her mask translates in monotone, but Alexander _knows_ she conveys nothing but concern and affection. Questionably recognized affection, but affection regardless.

He grins and grabs her hand before she can move away. His soft human fingers curl and grip her scaly digits. He pulls her hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Moon stills and begins to pant as Alexander kisses each knuckle, then drags his tongue down the end of one finger. He sucks on a claw tip, his eyes full of warmth. He wants her, and one day the two can have one another—he is sure of it.

After a moment of the huntress kneeling in place, still as stone, his breath-taking Moon slowly draws her hand back. Alexander grins at her. “I’m more than alright with that. But I hope—We get a chance to explore each other in the future.”

The Yautja sputters so much her mask cannot translate more than meaningless syllables. Alexander presses his lips to Moon’s mask before Blood Spasm pulls his huntress away and his handsome mate takes her place. Up close, Alexander revels in how appealing Sly Life is to look at. The man has fine muscles, sculpted but contoured to his smaller frame and of a fine black color. Varying hues of deep, rich dark black spread across his backside. Tiny nubs of quills poke out of his chest, underarms, legs, and arms. If a Yautja could be described as well shaven, Alexander would apply the word to Sly.

Sly clicks something at him, slowly drawing the scientist close. Alien hands reach for his body and Alexander gladly presses himself into them, no hesitation or fear. He breathes in and stops to marvel at how _good_ Sly Life smells, like the smoke of a wood-burning fireplace. _Pleasant. Strong. Distinct…_

Apparently, the human must smell good in return, as Sly spreads his mandibles and breathes in deep enough for Alexander to hear.

Across the room, he catches sight of Blood Spasm feeling and grabbing at Moon’s chest and groin. The two stand up several feet from him and Sly, with Moon falling into Blood Spasm’s back and allowing the shorter and less powerful Yautja to lead her into a mating session. The two are breathtaking to watch: so raw and real, open and vivid in their interactions with one another. There is something deeply intimate about how Blood Spasm holds and feels and touches his huntress, how Blood caresses sensitive peaks of the woman’s mammalian glands, how he fingers her with just enough precision to make her knees wobble and her cries ring out—

Alexander feels himself throb. He moans softly when Sly Life shifts him to sit on the Yautja’s lap, positioning him over his crotch. He has not seen the man’s cock yet, not like _this_. Alexander bites his lip when he feels alien fingers descend upon his shaft and begin rubbing the sides. His cock throbs harder and a small bead of pre forms on the tip, at the slit marking his urethra, but none of it is enough to trigger an orgasm.

It is too _soft._ He does not want soft right now. He wants tight grips, begging, and being slammed into the floor with his face choking for air. He wants someone to spread him wide and seize him until there is nothing left to plunder. He _likes_ things rough.

“I’m not going to break if you touch me harder,” he tells Sly Life, uncertain if the Yautja understands his language.

Sly Life chirps affectionately. The Yautja’s grip on his cock tightens and Alexander _moans_ for more. He pants when Sly moves to the head of his cock and grinds the pads of his fingers over the tip. More than once, a clawtip comes dangerously close to penetrating the slit on Alexander’s shaft, but Sly always seems to catch his hands before they wander too deep or press into places unknown even to the devious scientist. Alexander relaxes and groans loudly as Sly begins to give him a slow, thorough handjob.

He hears sharp cries from nearby and looks back at Moon and Blood Spasm. Unlike before, where Blood held Moon up and took her for all to see, the blood-red Yautja has her on her hands and knees in front of him and Sly Life. The huntress yowls as Blood pounds away into her backside, endlessly thrusting and smashing the two’s hips together like puzzle pieces desperate to fit. Blood roars in the throes of his lust, oblivious to Alexander’s stare as he continues to mate with the man’s beautiful huntress.

“Moon,” Alexander gasps the name and sees Moon look up. Her mask hides her face, but he hears her panting and _knows_ she is drowning in her lust, pulled through the tides of pleasure like a small fish floating out to sea. 

Sly’s hands release him. Alexander crawls out of the Yautja’s lap and over to Moon, where he reaches for her mask even as Blood strokes and thrusts harder. The huntress keens and cries aloud when Alexander removes it with clumsy hands. He puts it aside, only for Sly to wrap arms around his torso and pull him back. Alexander winds up straddling Sly once more, his back facing the man’s chest while he looks over his shoulder and swallows at the sight of pink lubricant paste in a container nearby.

Sly dips his fingers into the pink paste and clicks at him to move. Alexander sits on his hands and knees, spreading his legs to provide better access to Sly; the Yautja caresses his ass cheeks with a clean hand while the other dips to his rectum and pushes past his sphincter. It is not even a burn, only a rapidly spreading tingle as the pink paste goes into effect. Alexander squirms and groans loudly. He shudders when Sly’s free hand drops back to his cock and vigorously pumps it to full height again.

The Yautja rises behind him and sits on his knees. Sly fingers Alexander a short while before retracting the digit and lining himself upright. There is a deep, needy string of clicks before Sly invades inside and Alexander hisses at the insertion.

The Yautja is larger to take than he thought; Alexander moans and shudders, knees wobbly, as he struggles to remain upright. Sly purrs gently for him as the Yautja sheathes himself in Alexander’s ass. The temporarily augmented cells form dozens of pinprick small pleasure points within the human’s rectum. One thrust in and Alexander yowls and curses; the man doubles over and clutches the ground as he struggles to remember his life.

He cannot think when Sly begins to thrust. There is nothing but the blaze of heat across his body, of the smooth, curving cock forcing its way past his most intimate recesses. Alexander whimpers as Sly stretches him in greedy slaps of the two’s hips.

In front of him, Moon cries out and wails. Blood has shown her no mercy in the relentless fucking. Even after the huntress orgasms—Blood throws his head back and _roars_. The Yautja bellows and pounds Moon harder, harder, _harder,_ until the huntress can only snarl and shriek in mismatched ecstasy. Alexander does not have time to admire her; Sly Life joins his mate in vigorously pounding the individual open for use. Like Moon, Alexander discovers just how overstimulated and aching his nerves and ass can be.

And, like Moon, he enjoys every second of it.

* * *

At some point through the night, after Blood Spasm has mounted Moon so many times she reeks of sweat, after Sly Life has come thrice in Alexander’s swelling warmth, Sly finally relents in allowing Blood to swap with him. The crimson Yautja picks Alexander up off the ground and clicks with what Alexander thinks is concern. He croaks back, barely able to say _yes_ , barely about to think about more than his un-achieved orgasm.

Blood growls at him, deep and vicious.

The scientist chuckles weakly to himself. “I—I must—Be quite a sight. Yes? Yes…”

He can still feel great gobs of semen within his loins.

Blood is already positioning the human over his cock, but he doesn’t move yet. _Yet._

It dawns on Alexander the Yautja is waiting for him to confirm what he wants. Alexander leans back into the man’s bare chest—so many protruding quills, warm and plentiful—and moans softly. “Please—Please—I want to—I need to—I need it. I need…”

The barbs are much worse than he remembers. He has never taken such a strange cock until today, but he remembers feeling them when Blood grinded against him earlier in the mating sessions. The human writhes in Blood’s grasp, desperate to get the man in there _faster_. Pain shoots through his body as the barbed dick not only drags along the walls of his rectum but also grinds and pulls against the walls flanking his prostate glands on the way out. Alexander bucks his hips wildly and begins to thrash as Blood takes slow, smooth strokes.

“Ah—Ah, ah, oh, me, _fuck,”_ the man thrashes wildly in Blood’s arms, impaled on his cock. Blood’s hands linger on the man’s hips, squeezing tightly and pushing the human up and down. Alexander yelps as the dick grinds against the sweet spot deep inside him. He screams when a barb nails the swollen area and rakes across it.

He tries to masturbate, but Blood sees his hands pump away at his cock and in a heartbeat the Yautja has his arm wrenched behind him. Alexander yells and curses from the new angle. New waves of pleasure crash over him and possess his body. He shudders and screams until his lungs give out and all he can make is harsh grating noises. The man whimpers from over-stimulation as he takes, and takes, and _takes._ It is good. It is so damn good he melts from the euphoria and blissful groans. He cannot remember being so thoroughly _fucked_ in his life.

It taxes him emotionally. By the time he finally climaxes, by the time he achieves the short state of bliss in orgasm, he begins sobbing. He does not know why, as he is not truly upset, but the noises draw the attention of others in the room. Sly Life and Moon cease their fornicating immediately. Blood cannot pull out of him because of the man’s swollen, bulging shaft, but his rough hands massage Alexander’s shoulders. The Yautja purrs into his back, then into his neck, occasionally licking sensitive spots which prompt shivers.

“Alexander—” Moon has found her bio-mask somewhere in the haze of his euphoric exhaustion. The human croaks in response, at which Moon repeats the click louder, though her mask’s software translates it the same, “Alexander. Alexander. Alexander.”

“Yes… Ah…” The scientist whines when Blood Spasm rubs hands up and down his arms. “Ah, god, oh god, I keep—I forget—He’s in me—He’s still… Still…”

“Blood Spasm. He cannot pull out until his penis deflates. It will be several minutes,” Moon takes one of his hands in her own. She meets his gaze, but the visors of her mask keep her mystifying black eyes to herself. “Try to breathe. Relax your muscles.”

“I—I want,” the man whines louder and louder, zoning out of Moon’s words completely. “I want—More—Both—Please! _Please!_ ”

* * *

 _“I don't know if we should give it to him. He's spent. I... Have I ruined the evening?”_ Z’skuy’thwei clicks at the two Yautja observing.

 _"If you hurt him..."_ Luar-ke’s hands tense into fists. She looks from her human’s exhausted body to Z’skuy’thwei’s remorseful face. He looks sorry, _truly_ sorry, the kind of sorry she knows he cannot give unless he is sincere in the matter. It doesn’t quell her growing bloodlust, but the impulse to sever his spine from his head lessens. _Bloodlust will not resolve this._

She turns to Alexander. Her mask translates in monotone, “Can you handle more?”

“I need—” Her eccentric ooman scientist moans and whines at the shaft lodged inside him. “Yes, god, _yes, yes, yes—”_

It occurs to the huntress the man reacts to Z’skuy moving his weight from one leg to another, causing subtle but affirming changes in the angle, in how he presses into Alexander’s rectum. The latter inhales sharply, winces, then moans with brooding pleasure. Luar-ke stares and the answer hits her in the face: the man reacts _to_ pain, in a _good_ way.

“Alexander. Are you trying to...” She doesn’t finish the question because she doesn’t know how to ask it. Attempting to discern the scientist when words escape her appears to amuse Kwei, who clicks with soft chuckles nearby.

 _“He’s a masochist.”_ Kwei-nan’ku observes, nodding fervently.

Alexander begins to pant and moan. He _sobs_ when none of the Yautja heed him more attention than what is already extended. The noises sound pathetic, practically pleading in desperation. Luar-ke’s black eyes dim and she straightens upright and steps away.

“Alexander—” She begins, but the man howls and becomes fully erect as Z’skuy’thwei suddenly begins retracting his inflated cock from the man’s ass. Luar-ke growls deeply and is about to slit the man’s throat when Z’skuy’thwei’s penis pops out with a _squelch_ of semen and goes limp. At the same time, Alexander lets out a long, deep sigh of relief, turning it into a gasp and shrill cry when his erection returns.

The man cannot stand up. Luar-ke catches him before he falls. She clicks once when Alexander wraps arms around her neck and nuzzles her weakly. “Moon—I. I—I can feel it. I was so close—And now—Now… Oh, god… I want to try... I want them both, I do, my Moon, I...”

 _“Luar-ke. If he... If your ooman is alright with it... Perhaps...”_ Z’skuy’thwei’s suggestion is so absurd Luar-ke narrowly avoids spinning on her heels and wrenching his dick off in a rage. She keeps herself in check because _her_ ooman, _her_ scientist, _her_ Alexander, is busy mumbling and kissing her skin.

 _“Why would you suggest that?”_ Luar-ke growls softly.

Kwei-nan’ku pauses. _“If the man wants pain…”_

“By the Black Hunter.” Her mask translates her frustration into monotone.

Alexander’s grip on her grows tighter. “ _Moon…_ I want them. I want them so much. Not as much as I want you, but...”

“Blood Spasm and Sly Life are willing to attempt the double penetration right now. Will that suffice for your,” Luar-ke pauses, unsure how to finish it. She grits her teeth and chokes out words. “Your pain? Alexander?”

“Yes—Gods, yes, by the gods,” Alexander breathes in her scent. “Please—Please—Stay with me—Moon. I love you, Moon. Beautiful… Kind… Moon… I love…” He begins to ramble on again, words going in circles.

When Kwei-nan’ku and Z’skuy’thwei attempt to approach without clean, fresh lubricant, Luar-ke’s roar of anger is loud enough to shake the bedchamber shelves and rattle her equipment. The two men apologize in long strings of clicks before leaving briefly to fetch more pink paste. Alexander nuzzles her more and more, soon pressing kisses into her skin while uttering endless sweet nothings to her. Though she asks him more than once if he is okay going through with this, if he is _really_ okay with what he’s about to attempt, Luar-ke gets the same answer: he wants to do this. He _wants_ her, but he also wants to try _this_.

She holds his hand when Kwei and Z’skuy return. The two Yautja hand her a tub of pink paste to hold in her free arm while the two begin applying it liberally to Alexander’s puckered asshole. Luar-ke shivers when the two bend Alexander over and begin to finger the paste inside. Her ooman moans and writhes, humping the bed of pelts _wildly_ as two fingers scissor him in tandem with the other.

It doesn’t go over her head that the man continues to call her name.

* * *

 _So close, close, close._ It is all Alexander can think of, spurned on by the thoughts of what the red Yautja did to him before. He is _so_ horny, _so hard,_ but nothing will bring him the sweet release he seeks, nothing but the touch of a Yautja. He bucks wildly into otherworldly furs and pelts while Sly and Blood massage his rectal cavity and apply a cold paste to the inside. Instantly, the paste goes into effect and lubricates his passage while the cell-augmenting properties take effect.

Alexander moans in a high-pitched voice. He bucks his hips at the pelts again but they don’t provide enough _friction_.

The first to step up is _Sly Life._ The man’s smooth cock has faint ribbing along the sides but is otherwise silky to the touch. Alexander does not touch it long before spreading his ass cheeks. Sly chirps with approval and pushes his cock past the man’s sphincter. He feels filled instantly, long before Sly's entire length penetrates him. Alexander whimpers as the Yautja thrusts deeper, pressing inch-by-inch inside his waiting rectum and crushing a hundred temporary nerves along the inside of his anus.

Sly lifts him up. Alexander's legs are pushed to his chest, where the Yautja hooks arms around Sly’s torso and thighs to keep the man effectively exposed. Alexander moans softly at the thought of being stuck like that for _days_ , serving the Yautja and submitting time and time again. _To be used..._

Part of him derives pleasure from the notion of submitting, and part of him simply enjoys the tear-jerking contrast of pain spiking through pleasure. He doesn’t have a deep explanation behind it, other than the man seeks it out. He looks for it. He finds it, again and again, such as he does now when he sees Blood Spasm step up and rub his monstrous cock against the human’s limp, flaccid dick. Alexander hisses at the feeling of barbs digging into his foreskin and shaft. He writhes when Blood Spasm jerks his cock back.

 _“Fuck,”_ Alexander whispers softly, clenching his eyes shut. "This is... I may scream. I confess, I may scream. Blood is... Blood is quite... Large..."

“Alexander. You do not need to do this.” His beautiful huntress is worried about him. Again.

As much as Alexander adores Moon to the moons and back, he needs this. He grits his teeth to hold back a howl of raw pleasure when Sly resumes thrusting into him. The Yautja stretches him out all over again while Alexander throws his head back and forth, crying out in tandem, “—No—No—I need this! I need it! Moon! I want—I need— _I need this!"  
_

The noises become pained shouts and cursing while Blood Spasm positions his cock and pushes into the swollen hole. Alexander mewls, shaking to the point the two Yautja men click in concern and stop. He begs for them to continue, urging Blood to do it, to _fuck_ him, while his body trembles and shakes from the overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

He cries out for more, but the Yautja remain idle. Alexander curses Blood and Sly out as the Yautja wait for him to calm. When Alexander catches his breath, when he can think without wailing in pain, he takes a different approach in pleading for sweet, painful relief.

"Blood—You must—I need—I need it! I need you," the scientist chokes on the words. "Sly! Please— _Please_ do it! Move! Please—Ah—I need—"

The barbed cock drags along his swollen sphincter and teases at the glory beyond it. Alexander continues begging for Blood and Sly to claim him when Blood suddenly jerks his hips up and wrenches Alexander's groin down.

Alexander sees white; he screams in delight as his sphincter gives way and the barbed penis invades the rest of the way inside. Blood Spasm's girth fills him completely, fills him beyond what he knew with the plug, and the length pierces deep enough to plow into his prostate gland and writhe against it. Alexander's body sweats heavily. He quivers as the overwhelming sensation of being split in half, stuffed, and _devoured_ with pleasure floods his body.

The temporary nerve endings created through the lubricant fire. Alexander sees only flashes of light as the two Yautja begin gently thrusting into him. He screams and begs and pleads for more when the two continue their slow movements. He needs more! He needs things _rough!_ Alexander cusses the two Yautja out. He pants and writhes and _demands_ the two Yautja _get on with it_ , that the two warriors fuck him harder. Not even a second passes before one of the Yautja thrust into an especially pleasurable spot, dragging and grinding against the nerve endings until Alexander throws his head back and wails in euphoric bliss.

He tries in vain to ride the two’s cocks, only for both Yautja hold him down while they take turns thrusting. Sly’s strokes are smooth and gentle, whereas Blood Spasm’s thrusts are intense and sharp. He squeals and shudders whenever one Yautja bottoms out inside him.

The noises of hips flaring and grinding into hips, of skin and scales smashing together in wet slaps, of his own keening cries and high-pitched moans, it blossoms like fire in his stomach. His penis throbs and drips pre unsteadily. He struggles to think or breathe sandwiched between two muscular aliens, exposed and vulnerable in a way he has never been before. Not even in his college years did he try to ride two cocks at once. The pain is devouring; he is swallowed whole by it, helpless to the two lovers. He goes limp but his limbs quiver and shake as Alexander offers his body, mind, and soul in physical pleasure. His gut coils and churns wildly. The heat swells up inside him and tears at his groin, his ass, his chest, his everything, until the man wants to sob again and plead for release. He cannot hold himself back, he can't preserve his stamina, he can only throw himself up the cliff of ecstasy when it comes and look off the edge.

The scientist hears strings of clicks and roars of dominance, just before Blood Spasm _tears_ his cock free. Alexander arches his back and cries out, only to sob with pleasure when Sly drops to a crouch, ceases in his thrusts, and a warm, wet tongue snakes out around the human’s cock.

Alexander’s eyes snap open and bulge. His face goes red as the pressure becomes _overwhelming,_ stimulating nerves temporary and old alike. On her knees, mandibles spread, his huntress laps at his penis, her mask discarded at her feet. Alexander yowls and wails as he bucks his hips into the huntress’ mouth. Sly gyrates into his ass while the hot, bumpy tongue of his beloved Moon wraps around the head of his cock and massages the tip. The muscle teases the slit at the end and Alexander comes _undone_.

He wails and sobs loudly as he cums into the mouth of the huntress. His hips jerk forward from the sinful pleasures.

The Yautja with him aren't done. Sly grunts louder, _harder,_ and pounds him until the Yautja locks up and his cock throbs wildly inside the scientist. Heat jets across Alexander’s insides, blasting into the sweet spot deep within. The human throws his head back and forth and convulses uncontrollably. Between his spasms, he bucks his hips again and again, with Alexander releasing every drop of his essence as his huntress milks him dry. When Sly slips out of him, Blood takes his place, and the larger, burly man holds Alexander the same way while bouncing him on the Yautja's dick. Alexander pants and moans weakly. His mind is a daze and heat takes him until Moon's tongue serenades a cacophony of sheer, uncontrollable bliss from his body. The next orgasm has him shaking violently in the Yautja's arms and tongue. His body is spent; his energy depleted and he does nothing but drown in the feelings of adoration and lust. Blood's climax is vicious; he jackhammers into the smaller ooman until his load explodes into Alexander; the latter whimpers and feels the hot semen flood him. The barbs dig into his sphincter and Blood rubs his arms and legs while his inflated cock sticks in the man.

When Blood's penis deflates, Alexander is released into Moon’s waiting arms. The man cannot keep his head up or respond in anything more than gibberish-like thanks and soft cries of pain from the stretch of his ass. He collapses against his Moon, and begins to kiss all the skin he can reach. Sly and Blood grunt and click at Moon, each rising and meeting the other at the bedchamber door, but before the two can leave, Moon hisses at them. She growls loudly when the two say nothing.

To Alexander’s surprise— _delight_ —the two Yautja hesitate before turning and returning to Moon’s bed. Alexander feels the crimson Yautja lay next to him, while the slimmer individual cuddles Moon from behind. Alexander smiles weakly at the realization Moon has asked her two guests to join the duo’s resting place. Blood Spasm’s warm body rubs against his back. Moon’s breath fans his face. He can hear Sly Life snore, the Yautja already out like a light on his side of the bed.

Entangled in one another, Alexander relaxes under the touch of his beautiful huntress and the two’s guests. He falls asleep quickly, chest rising and falling in short bursts.

The man dreams of a moonless night, where love is made and his illustration skills are envied.


	8. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for tagging along on this Very Smutty ride! Here's the last chapter. 
> 
> These two are a fun pair. So are Z'skuy'thwei and Kwei-nan'ku. These four will probably show up in future stories.

Things are quiet in the day cycles following the group mating. It is not only because of two handsome Yautjas departures, though the lack of Z’skuy’thwei’s brash attitude and Kwei-nan’ku’s humorous presence contributes greatly to the dull atmosphere. To the huntress’ dismay, she finds herself thinking of the two warriors on and off as the days pass. She thinks of them often, when lounging in her bath or training in her _kehrite_ alone. She sleeps in her bedchamber alone, with Alexander opting to return to his own bedchamber the following nights.

Maybe he knows her conflicting feelings. Maybe he senses the internal strife boiling in her stomach, but the scientist does not heckle her or demand her attention. He offers a degree of space, a cushion to her ego while her brain strains to process her feelings.

In a single day, her heat has not been extinguished, yet it feels quelled and quenched enough for her to reign in self-control. She does not invite other Yautja to join her in the bedchamber. Doing so is an option, and she knows many Yautja willing to mate with her until she is with pups, but Luar-ke cannot fathom the thought. It does not bring her relief, not the way the thoughts of black-scaled or crimson-pelted Yautja do, or the soft flesh of a _pyode amedha_ who once drank her _thwei_ does.

 _Looks like I became fond of you two after all._ She grimaces and hefts herself off the ground while her training automation lunges for her. Luar-ke growls and snatches her combistick from the side before spinning it around her body, activating it in the curve of a strike, and smashing the bladed end into the automation’s chest cavity. Sparks crackle and pour out. Luar-ke’s black eyes narrow as she stares at the broken construct. _Even if you insult my ship. Mate in my kehrite. Pauk my scientist…_

Alexander is a whole other matter: a can of _r’ka_ waiting to be opened.

 _I… will speak with him eventually,_ it is what she decides upon as she walks out of her _kehrite_ and makes the trek to her bedchamber. She stops inside and begins to strip of all but her leathery top and the short loincloth covering her crotch. The armor takes a long hour to clean with her sanitation laser, dragging on to the point she wants to throw it at a wall. After, the armor is stashed on the wall in an ornate mannequin built in her image.

She clicks softly at herself and flops into her bed of intricate, lush pelts. Each fur is as gloriously soft as the rest, with its own gorgeous patterning and intricate colors. The woman lays across the pelts and squishes her thighs together. _To think—Days ago—This was where Alexander… And I… And… Kwei… Z’skuy... We…_

Her hand falls to her pelvis. She drags the clawtip down and sits upright, pressing one finger between the folds of her slit and feeling the heat and moisture present. There is no denying how arousing all three men made her feel. Nor how arousing all three _continue_ to make her feel. The huntress chides herself when she contemplates transmitting a request for Z’skuy’thwei and Kwei-nan’ku to return and finish what they started.

 _M-di. They have their own schedules._ She shuts her eyes. Her bio-mask suddenly feels like dead weight on her face, useless for ridding her of her heat. She doesn’t take it off. Instead, the huntress plays a recording of Alexander. It is of one of the many times she has assisted him in measuring his rectum’s capacity to stretch. In the video, he waves excitedly at her mask before sprawling out, butt naked, on his hands and knees in front of her.

The Yautja struggles not to click with mirth when she observes a recording of herself walking forward with a plug, coating it in pink paste, and massaging the man’s sphincter with it. The scene devolves into a splendor of lust and Alexander’s sweet bedchamber noises, with Luar-ke thrusting the plug into the man’s rectum until he jerks his hips, twitches, and orgasms over himself. She begins to finger herself as the recording replays the audio of Alexander’s orgasm, of him sounding out _her_ name, or his name for her.

The noises he had made when Z’skuy’thwei and Kwei-nan’ku took him together were ungodly. Luar-ke recalls how she almost called the whole thing off, only Alexander’s insistence they continue restrained her. She grits her teeth and fingers herself harder when she remembers how Alexander writhed and wiggled against Z’skuy’thwei’s cock. The ooman attempted to goad Z’skuy and Kwei into mating him more roughly.

 _His body endured all of that. He even wanted more the next morning._ She grits her teeth and whines softly as she envisions the sight once more: three men, the two Yautja and one ooman, engaged in the rough yet intimate copulation. _Alexander… You’re… Strange. A strange scientist. My strange…_

 _“Oh,”_ she clicks softly when her hand finally finds a pleasure point inside her sopping wet loins. She grinds the pad of the finger against it, whimpering and hissing once when pleasure wracks her form. Luar-ke bucks into her own hand, cursing softly and keening with growing volume as thrust after thrust sends her spiraling down the path of pleasure, all to the thought of her submissive ooman.

 _Her_ submissive ooman.

Luar-ke growls loudly and cusses out the ship when her orgasm comes and goes like a loose feather, tickling once before dancing on. She rolls her hips until the tiny bit of pleasure leaves, then she sits up and dries her hand off on her pelts. She can change them later.

“Alexander…” She pauses at the realization her mask has automatically turned on its auto-translate feature. The Yautja grimaces and begins making the changes necessary to calibrate the mask settings.

To her irritation, it does not shut off. She needs to reset it, which is easy enough, but afterward her mask must be synced with her ships interface or else she will need to authorize all her input commands manually. Resyncing a mask demands its physical presence in the cockpit. Luar-ke grits her teeth and climbs out of her bed.

She dresses in simple fur garments, barely covering her torso but adequately shielding her mammalian glands and crotch. The woman has only just opened her bedchamber door and stepped into the hallway when Alexander greets her. “Moon—My lovely—”

The huntress freezes in place. Her mask automatically translates. “Alexander. Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course.” The scientist sounds amused by the idea of anything _but_ visiting her.

It makes heat fill her cheeks. “…You have seen me.”

“Twice, over the last…” The scientist briefly counts his fingers. “—Seventy-two _Terra_ hours! _Twice._ If you have grown less fond of me—Please update me on our situation, so we may cut ties as necessary. I will not permit myself to hold you back, Moon.”

“How are you feeling today?” It is a poor way of attempting to change the subject.

The scientist scoffs. “I have never been better my dear, sweet, wonderful Moon. Except,” and the man stops, stills, and stares directly at her.

Luar-ke feels his beautiful blue gaze lock unto her mask, searching the blank visors in attempt to reach her face beyond it. She inhales slowly and pauses at the realization of a certain smell wafting from her body. Alexander clears his throat and rights his shirt, a fancy button-up with smooth sleeves and made from a solid white material. The buttons are gold, matching his slacks. He looks like he is about to court someone.

“ _Luar-ke,_ ” Alexander’s use of her shortened name causes heat to twist and writhe in her chest. “I know you and I do not see eye-to-eye, but… We need to address something… _this_. You and I are both aware things are no longer as they were between us. After Blood and Sly visited—After you— _blew_ me…”

He is a note flustered, yet nowhere near as poignantly nervous as herself.

Alexander clears his throat. Luar-ke finds his soft hair unusually less puffy. Her mind quickly pieces together that the ooman— _her_ ooman—has gone through the trouble of combing the curls.

“I know we are both _professionals_ in our designated fields, Moon,” the man begins with a sharp exhale. He wrings his wrists before pushing his spectacles up his nose. “I understand we usually maintain professional _standards_ around the other. But what happened during that mating session—I am finding it increasingly difficult to contemplate anything but ravishing you. Increasingly difficult, ha… Oh.” The man laughs nervously and moves to rub the back of his head.

His words make the huntress fall quiet. She stares.

“I—I know I have joked many times over of ‘us’, or have… Have made certain remarks indicating we are anything but platonic company of one another—But—But that is not quite—Well, it is not quite true. I think you already know how _I_ feel. And, to tell you the truth, I have been certain how _you_ feel for quite a while now. But that—Feeling isn’t all there is to it, no? We need something to trigger a reaction. A catalyst to aid in speeding up our future,” Alexander steps forward. He is two feet shorter than the huntress, who stands over him at eight feet, but his confidence demands full attention.

She feels like the small one. Her eyes dim from the thought. “Alexander—”

“The very first thing I said to you was, _‘I don’t know who you are, but I love you.’_ Granted, it was in response to my laboratory being raided by an international security force devoted to rooting out otherworldly technology, _but_ —Ahem. I said those words, that is what is important,” the man nods firmly. He smiles bashfully at her as he looks up, somewhere between smug and shy all at once. “On Terra— _Earth_ , if you can humor me—humans speak such phrases to those they deeply care about. Is it no surprise I care deeply for you, Moon? We’ve been _together_ decades. And, putting it simply, you have fucked me more times with a toy than I can count off the top of my head. I am sufficient at math—"

“We’ve had this conversation before.” She turns back to her bedchamber door and lifts a palm. The door slides open.

“Moon,” the ooman speaks of her slowly, in a way that sends shivers down her spine. The huntress tenses but doesn’t look back, not until Alexander takes her hand and states. “Those conversations took place before you… Well, on Earth, it is called a ‘blowjob’. Perhaps you have another term for it among your kind, but—Oral stimulation. Oral sex. You pleasured me in a way I have never been serviced before, not by _Yautja._ ”

He’s frustratingly good at pronouncing the name of her species.

“You have never done that before.” Alexander reiterates. “Of everything you have done—You have never touched me so… directly. Something has changed, hasn’t it?”

“Alexander, what I feel may change, but it does not change the society of which I come from—”

“Yes, I know you will not produce a hybrid ‘pup’ or progeny. But that is not the topic, Moon,” the scientist huffs. Luar-ke feels a pull on her hand, a silent plea for her to _stay_ , to not shut him out as she has done many times in the past. She lets him pull her back to face him. She lets him look at her mask and sigh. “I believe I am irrationally drawn to you. Tenacious, vivacious, desperately pulled to your side. I do not need to have sex a certain way to be zealous for your touch…”

Her hands start to shake. A _pyode amedha_ should not be so damn good at wringing her dry, yet here he is.

“I would be happy to spend the rest of my life beneath you and a strap-on if that is what you enjoy. I would gladly eat you for dinner, fill my mouth with your heat, fist you until your legs quake…” He intones a large list of lewd acts, including some which Luar-ke raises a hairless brow at. Alexander sighs after he finishes shaking his head. “I want _you_. I want to be at your side. But I am…”

He grits his teeth.

“I am losing all sense of myself—I feel ready to _snap_ if I linger a second more—Tell me what you want. Tell me you do or do not care for me, Moon. My beautiful, strong, sultry Moon—Tell me you want me to go if not stay. Tell me to move on and leave me at a space station if you don’t _want_ me here…” Alexander drawls on a moment. He falls quiet after and looks at his shoes.

 _He wants an answer._ A real answer.

Luar-ke looks to the side. Her mask voices in monotone, “You do not wish to continue our current arrangement?”

“That is not what I said, Moonless Night.” Alexander retorts immediately. “I have greatly enjoyed the time spent together—The time spent with _you_ —With the Yautja you invite into your abode—But I—I have not maintained a professional demeanor. I developed very intense feelings toward you. I know it means little to Yautja, but this scrawny little human would gladly die to keep you safe. To protect you, your honor, any of your pups—”

Though the man cuts himself off, the point is clear. It has been clear for a time, only the huntress has avoided addressing it directly, not out of her dislike for the man, but out of the emotions she has struggled to reign in over the cycles. Luar-ke feels her gut twist and coil, both with a nauseating unease and the splendid warmth the scientist provokes in her.

“…it does not mean little to me,” The mask glitches and auto-translates the soft, almost inaudible click she lets free. 

“Then what holds you back?” The scientist inquires almost quizzically. “Please talk to me, Moon. I need to know. I cannot continue this way. One of us must change. It is not fair to you _or_ me for us to dance around the issue.”

At first, she considers making the door shut and separating the man from her before she crosses any lines she can’t come back from. Then she remembers the two have, in many, _many_ ways, already bolted past those lines and kept running. She doesn’t want a leg to stand on, not on this subject. She knows why she instinctively searches for an excuse to keep her feelings toward Alexander in the dark: even if it not barred in her clan, the majority of her species—or as many abide by the Council of Ancients—consider it disgraceful to take a species other than Yautja as a mate.

“My clan and our allies will not look at me the same.”

Alexander’s beautiful blue eyes soften; the edges of his lips twitch up briefly in a smile before dropping back to a taut, thin frown. “While it alleviates my worries to know _that_ is the _why_ behind this impasse, I wish I could convey how discouraging it is to hear you besieged by your worry over what others think of you. You have always been the strong one of us two. Capable, efficient, deadly—I could go on for days, my dear, sweet Moon.”

“Alexander, I am not afraid of them, but—”

“What holds you back?” The man asks again, firmer this time.

“I don’t want to lose you.” She snaps, even as the mask voices it in monotone. “What if the Council declares it dishonorable again? I will be branded a Bad Blood. Do you understand the ramifications of that? The life you will live with me—It will not be like this. Alexander. It will be a life of moving, fighting, and survival. I won’t put you in unnecessary danger.”

“Moon… Moon…” Alexander hesitates at her bedchamber doorway.

She looks to the side, equally hesitant, before she clicks at him to enter. He slowly walks to her and looks up. She is taller by almost two _noks_ , or two Terran feet. The height should provide a layer of safety, but Alexander gestures for her to lean down. He cups her masked face, “I am aware of the… difficulties we may face together. I have stood at your side for decades, no? Stood with my sweet, kind, beautiful, _deadly_ huntress—”

He wraps arms around her, conveniently laying them over the curve of her posterior due to the differences in height.

“I am ready for whatever we shall face. Together! It will be a grand time. You, me, perhaps those two dapper Yautja fellows from the clan who is ruthless—” Alexander swoons against her, clearly taken by the thought. He sighs. “I want to live out the rest of my days with you.”

 _Pyode amedha. Soft…_ Her hand runs through the man’s hair, stroking it gently.

“Do you know how divine your touch is?” The scientist mumbles against her skin. “The ravenous hunger you inspire?”

“I recall speaking similar words several day cycles past now.” Her mask translates the set of chirps.

“As you should!” The man looks up. “You smell _phenomenal,_ by the way. I wouldn’t mind you sitting on me—”

“I am not going to sit on you.” The sexual connotations of Alexander’s words do not come through until a moment later. The huntress doubles down on her stance, her mask translating every flustered click, “You would suffocate if not be crushed under my weight. Alexander.”

“Would it be easier if I was more forthcoming? I want to eat you out. I would like to sample the delicacy of your pussy—” The scientist attempts to speak seriously but his voice begins to crack from the humor he finds in his own words. He chuckles softly, eventually quieting down in the time it takes Luar-ke to get a grip on herself. Alexander tilts his head to one side. “What are you thinking right now, my Moon?” 

She breathes in deeply, tasting the man’s scent on her olfactory receptors. The roof of her mouth tingles and she fights not to salivate. She had pushed it out of her mind until the man brought up scents, but when she stops and focuses on it, the huntress feels her blood dance from the odor in the air. She nudges Alexander until the man lets go and steps back. He clears his throat and adjusts his clothes. She growls at him.

“—Yes? Moon?” The man frowns, baffled. 

“If I invite you to my bedchamber, I expect you capable of mating me as a Yautja would.” The huntress’ mask translates.

To her surprise, Alexander grins and reaches a hand up to touch her chest. “Oh, lovely, I am delighted to know we are on the same page—I want nothing less of the sort from you! What a coincidence, mm? Can _you_ fuck me like a Yautja? Like your handsome _friends?_ Who we really must get back in touch with—” He breathes in suddenly when Luar-ke leans down and picks him up. “Moon? Moon!”

“I will mate you the way they have.” The huntress’ mask does not hide her growing lust as she crosses to the bed, tosses Alexander upon it, then turns around and leaves. At her doorway, she looks over her shoulder and clicks, “I will be back shortly. Any clothes on your person will be ripped off.”

“Yes. Yes. Of course. Right…” Alexander’s giddy and flustered face is appealing to look at. Luar-ke growls deeply, feeling a ping of satisfaction when the man’s cheeks become bright red. She shuts her bedchamber door and strides off down the corridor.

* * *

The woman doesn’t want him wearing clothes. _Excellent._

He undresses rapidly, practically frothing in his zealousness to strip himself of attire. Alexander is not sure where to put his clothes; he folds them and sets them to the side, along the wall of Moon’s trophies. Alexander is in the middle of admiring a large skull when he hears footsteps approach the door. He turns around in time to catch sight of Moon’s deep, _deep_ blue pelt emerging with a bucket under one arm and several _very_ recognizable toys in the other. They are his own, some he has yet to use. Moon clicks for his attention; the man humbly spins and gestures at himself, nothing short of proud at his own body.

“I will need a moment.” Moon’s mask intones. Alexander walks back to the bed of pelts and flops into a fluffy yellow one.

He smiles and looks up at her, resting his head on his arms. “Moon, take as many moments as you need.”

He feels happy watching her work. She unlocks multiple drawers and shelves which rise or protrude from the wall and floor, fishing out tools he has seen her use to fix her armor before. Leathery straps, wiry mesh cording, buckles of a metal he vaguely remembers as veritanium, _his_ huntress appears agile and graceful even as her claw-tipped fingers bend and shape different materials. Moon ties the objects into one another, connecting them through intricate knots. It isn’t until the Yautja grabs one of his toys that the man suddenly understands her intent.

His face blooms with heat. He looks at the toys, at the size of the one selected. It is a fine dildo, one he picked out from an intergalactic marketplace over ten cycles ago. The material is grainy. The length is easily nine inches, perhaps a little more. Along the shape are succulent ridges, nine in total. At the base of the dildo, protruding in a manner more artistic than lewd, are elegant nobs and curving hooks. The girth, like the rest of the beautifully rendered cock, is impressive; Alexander estimates it to be at least four fingers bunched up. It is not as girthy as Blood Spasm, but the size easily makes Sly Life’s shaft pale in comparison.

“Do you enjoy it? Feeling pain.” Moon asks of him.

Alexander shudders. “Yes. Yes, I do. Quite a lot.”

“When Sly and Blood filled you—You made noises I thought most would find unbearable. That is why the two stopped. They were concerned it was too much.”

“Honorable men. I miss them, as do you,” He feels smug when the huntress growls and looks away, her flustered state showing. “Oh, Moon, there is no shame in admitting it! Perhaps you have a crush—”

“Predators do not form ‘crushes’—”

“Yet there you are, crushing wildly on two Yautja who would fuck you in a heartbeat. I didn’t miss the way they looked at you. How they held you. How they… Nng,” Alexander feels his cock twitch. He sits up and spreads his leg to show Moon everything he does. The man rubs a hand up and down the side of his shaft as he strains to speak, “—How they—They took you—Yes, yes, they did, didn’t they? Took you—Fucked you—It was beautiful! Tender moments among the cries they wrung from your body—”

“Alexander.” Moon turns to look at him but falls quiet when he begins to pump his cock excitedly.

“They will want you—Oh, Moon, they will, they will—Please invite them back, yes? Invite them here—I want to see you stuffed by them—I want to join you on that floor—We could do it, the two of us, together!”

The scientist is careful to cease his indulgences when he feels himself near the edge. He pants and breathes heavily, fighting the urge to rut himself into a pelt and instead keeping his body still and his hands at his sides. He grins cheekily at his huntress and wiggles his hips in her direction. Moon’s growl is arousing enough to make Alexander moan into the air. The man gasps a moment later, when his back hits the bed and he finds the huntress suddenly straddles him with her knees pinning his arms to the side. 

“You are going to be taken like a Yautja,” the woman hisses through her mask’s translation. Alexander nods, in full agreement. His huntress leans down and presses her masked forehead against his. “You are mine. Alexander. I am not sharing you tonight.”

Something grainy prods his abdomen. Alexander bites his lip to keep from moaning. Moon releases him and stands. She is a muscular goddess in his eyes, demanding his full attention as she steps into the jerry-rigged harness and pulls it up to her waist. The sex toy hangs idly off her pelvis. Ironically, the toy is a mix of different blue hues, partially matching the color of Moon’s pelt. The woman does not say anything as she kneels between Alexander’s legs and pulls them open. Her grip is rough, _perfect_ and full of yearning.

He feels tiny in comparison. Her eight-foot frame towers over him even as she shifts his legs to her hips and lets them dangle over the side. The Yautja clicks in a strange tone, in a _lustful_ way, evident even though the words come out in monotone, “Alexander. I am going to mate you like a Yautja.”

“Please do,” the man chokes out, struggling to stay still and not buck his hips into her.

“You will tell me if it becomes too much for you.” She gives him a command, not a statement. “One orgasm is not the end of a Yautja’s stamina. You will be there a while.”

“Moon—Ah, oh, I,” Alexander fumbles a moment as one scaly hand grips his erection. He moans and twitches when the huntress squeezes it. “Oh, fuck me, that—That is—Yes—”

She begins to rub him, tight enough for him to arch his back and cry out. The woman grinds the pad of a thumb over the head of Alexander’s cock. She occasionally dips a clawtip into the slit at the end, never deep enough to cause turmoil, but enough of a tease for him to yelp and buck his hips.

When the woman finishes stimulating him by hand, she grabs the bucket of pink paste and spreads a glob over the toy. Alexander exhales when Moon spreads his legs and pushes them back. He grunts when his limbs begin to ache. He gasps when the paste-covered toy bumps into his perineum. The man shudders as Moon gets into position.

“Moon—Moon—” The man chokes out when the head presses against his sphincter. He holds his breath.

“What do you want? Alexander?” His huntress’ mask voices even as she bumps the toy’s head into his puckered asshole.

“Put it in—Moon! Moon—Ah, _ah,_ oh, fuck,” Alexander groans. The tip presses into his sphincter and the ring of muscles is slowly stretched wider, and wider, and wider. The man writhes and shakes but Moon grabs him by the hips and holds him still as he whines. “—Moon, Moon, oh, Moon—This is—Ah— _Ah!_ Oh, _god,_ fuck, yes—Yes, yes, yes!”

He begins to moan and keen wildly, a mess of sounds as the grainy texture of the toy scraps and drags along his inner walls. The lubricant goes into effect immediately; Alexander begins howling with pleasure as temporary nerves fire off ecstasy into his body. His toes curl. Moon leans down and inhales loud enough for him to hear before she bucks her hips forward and thrusts in several inches. Alexander’s chest heaves and he cries out as the world flashes around him.

The ridges of the faux cock strain to push in. Alexander bucks his hips at his huntress and she drags out the cock, removing it to the head before she holds him tightly and jams it inside. The man trembles and belts in need. His mind swarms as the huntress repeats the action, knocking into the perfect spot each time to leave him singing for more. He begins to writhe under her hands. Each roll of her hips leaves the dildo deeper than before, filling him to such a degree he grates his teeth.

“Mo—Moon,” the man keens loudly and quivers. He fails to wrap his legs around the huntress. She strokes his thighs while he pants. “Moon—Moon—I need—More than this! More—”

Alexander throws his head back and forth at a deep, sharp thrust into his prostate. He wails when Moon repeats it. The grainy texture reaps his cries of pleasure as the man gives every part of himself to his huntress.

“Alexander.” The huntress’ mask booms. Moon pulls out. “Your hands and knees.”

He whimpers at the sudden loss of the toy. His asshole puckers. He trembles as he rises to his hands and knees, turning to let his rear face the huntress. She clicks softly and gestures for him to move closer; the man does, his cock dragging along the pelts on the bed.

Moon grabs one ass cheek and squuezes it. “You want to be mated like a Yautja?”

“Yes—Yes, Moon—” Alexander croons when the huntress brings her hand down on his bare ass. His hips writhe feebly in the air.

“You are mine, Alexander.”

“I am yours, Moon,” the man mumbles.

“You submit to me.”

“I submit to you,” he squeals and yelps when another hand falls to his ass. “Moon— _Moon—”_

“Tell me how much you want this,” The huntress abandons his ass and reaches around to rub his throbbing, twitching cock. The man yowls and shakes as she masturbates him. The pressure in his loins, the heat of the moment, it builds until there is nowhere else to go. In her hands, as she grinds her thumb and fingers against his cock, the man ejaculates.

He calls her name in orgasm, only to feel the head of the dildo a second later.

“I want—I want—”

The head of the toy presses against his sphincter. Alexander groans and grits his teeth.

He whines loudly, “You! I want you! I want your fake cock! I want you to fuck me! You! Moon! _Please!”_

His knees wobble and he throws his head back as Moon thrusts the dildo up his anus. She pulls him over it by his hips. The man writhes for more. The sound of hips smacking together fills the bedchamber as Moon vigorously fucks him into the floor. There is no gentleness to her actions, to her demand of his body. Moon howls at him the second he falls quiet. She drives into his body, filling and overtaking any memories of the men’s cocks with her fake one.

Alexander’s mouth hangs ajar. His mind blanks and he pleads her name incoherently as the huntress claims what is rightfully hers.

Her hands shift from his hips to his chest. In a second she sits with him sinking into her lap over the toy.

“Ride me.”

His thighs burn and he pants weakly as he bounces on the fake cock. Moon’s hands explore his chest and she plays with his nipples, poking and kneading his chest until the two nipples are red and puffy. Alexander groans as he slides up and down the toy dildo. He feels the twist of heat in his stomach burn until his body locks and he drops unto Moon, a wave of ecstasy tearing his scream from his throat mid-orgasm.

His huntress releases his chest and drops her hands to his hips. She begins manually thrusting into him while his body wallows in orgasmic relief. His nerves burn.

“Moon—Moon, I—” The scientist whimpers. He clenches down on the toy dick s it grinds against his prostate. “Oh, oh, _Moon,_ oh, Moon! Oh! _Ah! Ah!_ Fuck! _Fuck!_ ”

His limp penis dribbles semen down its side while he shifts his hips against the Yautja.

“You're not done,” the huntress’ mask intones. "Ride."

"So generous," Alexander pants, lips tugging up at the edges. "Generous Moon. Moon. _Moon..."_

He slowly lifts his hips and drops them over the toy once more. The huntress rubs his arms soothingly while the man strains to continue fucking himself on her lap. He whimpers each time he takes the dildo in full, only to whine and hiss when he pulls himself off the harness. The man shakes and sweats a storm as he repeats the process, gradually building himself up to another climax. He bucks through it, already knowing how the woman will react.

He is not wrong.

The Yautja is relentless, fucking him on the toy until he is a mess of grime, sweat, and semen. She is not satisfied with one orgasm, she demands multiple of him, something he gladly gives her. Even after his cock aches and throbs painfully, even after his whimpering becomes croaks and gasps, Alexander continues through his torturous sea of pleasure and rides the toy. The only break is for more lube, then it is back to what feels like hours of the dildo smashing his ass and tearing through him. She fucks him until he cannot hold himself upright, until he is a mess against her body while she lays down with him on her chest. She fucks him some more then, with the scientist groaning at her to go harder. Then she fucks him one more time, with the man in her lap and facing her. He doesn't hold back his exhausted sounds of pleasure as the feeling of fire courses his body.

Moon lets him kiss her for the first time, her bio-mask discarded by his trembling hands. Alexander moans into her mouth, allowing her tongue to slide past her inner jaw and beyond his lips. The two tangle together, hopelessly enmeshed in one another, just as the duo are in their relationship. Alexander begins to lift his sore, aching hips up. He slowly, sluggishly rides the fake cock until it hits _just_ right in his body.

He draws out of the ‘kiss’ and whimpers as the orgasm hits him. Alexander clutches his huntress and pants through the high. Moon rubs his head. She runs claws through his hair. He decides to kiss her again, and the man delves into the taste of her mouth with little care for her mandibles accidentally scraping him.

Alexander’s exhausted body finds new motivation to move, as he kisses every inch of Moon’s. She is already wet enough for him, but the man trembles and dives into the fold between her legs. His tongue snakes out and he laps and licks all he can reach while his huntress trembles and roars beneath him. When he feels she is close, when Alexander is sure Moon’s focus belongs to him and him alone, he looks her in the eye.

“I love you,” the scientist whispers.

Her face appears to deepen, becoming a vibrant cobalt-like hue in her blush. She clicks softly in response.

The Yautja spreads her legs open, allowing him to position the head of his cock against her slit.

He thrusts forward and digs into the rhythm of rocking hips and grasping claws. His huntress clicks and trills incessantly, all rising in volume. Alexander grunts and pours the last of his energy into pounding the huntress. His previous orgasms numbs part of himself, keeping him on edge and moving until he feels her beginning to tense underneath him. The man moans. _"Moon! Moon!_ Moon!" 

Moon's hands grab his own and she trills desperation. Alexander hears the need in her voice, the desire for _him_ , and it floods his body with the release he's yearned after for a long time. Alexander wails as he climaxes and spills himself deep into the huntress' body. Moon thrashes and roars as her orgasm takes her. 

He collapses unto her. She weakly pulls back her hands and loops them around his torso. The Yautja’s scale-covered body presses and rubs against Alexander's aching nipples.

“Moon.” The scientist mumbles after a time, heart full and swollen with adoration for her. “You are… You are so lovely. Kind. Beautiful. Sweet Moon. I love my Moon…”

She clicks something at him. Though the scientist doesn’t know what it is, he hears her affection and warmth. He feels how relaxed she is, with all tension gone from her body. Her eyes are full of mutual adoration.

He kisses her skin and smiles when her hand toys with his hair. The scientist draws back and nestles into his huntress’ arms, content to close his eyes and enjoy the present.


End file.
